


A Good Man

by undercoverwarlock



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Auror Harry Potter, Barista Draco Malfoy, Domestic Fluff, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Homophobia, M/M, Ron messes up, Sexy Times, Work In Progress, a lot of domestic fluff, a lot of smut, oh god don't make me tag anymore sex stuff my ace brain can't handle it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:01:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27805003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undercoverwarlock/pseuds/undercoverwarlock
Summary: Harry didn't go out for coffee much. Between work at the Ministry and co-parenting Teddy with Andromeda, free time was scarce, and when he did go out it was for a drink at the pub with his friends. But it had been a few years since he and Ginny had split, and his friends wanted to play matchmaker. So here he was, standing in the queue to order coffee at a Muggle coffee shop, while his date sat a table by the window. Then he caught a glimpse of white blond hair...Complete work as of 6 December 2020.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 17
Kudos: 101





	1. His Coffee's On Him

**Author's Note:**

> Characters belong to J.K. Rowling, who as of the time this was posted has yet to apologise for her transphobic comments and views. Until she does, I won't shut up about it.

Harry didn’t go out for coffee much. Between work at the Ministry and co-parenting Teddy with Andromeda, free time was scarce, and when he did go out it was for a drink at the pub with his friends. But it had been a few years since he and Ginny had split, and his friends wanted to play matchmaker. So here he was, standing in the queue to order coffee at a Muggle coffee shop, while his date sat a table by the window.

He did his best not to keep sneaking glances at his date – a handsome man, Harry gave Hermione that much, named Joseph. He was just not entirely his type. He couldn’t pinpoint why, exactly. There was just no spark, no attraction. He sighed as he inched forward in the queue. Half an hour, he promised himself – then, if the date was still a bust, he’d go and spend his rare free day knowing he’d given it his best.

Harry saw a flash of white blond hair from the till. No. No, it couldn’t be. He frowned and leaned around the women in front of him who seemed to be ordering at least a dozen incredibly specific drinks. It was. Harry’s jaw dropped just as the man behind the till looked up at him.

Malfoy did not look the same as he had five years ago. Then, he had been gaunt, all angles and dark shadows under stormy eyes. He had looked Harry in the eye and lied to his deranged aunt. He had saved them, only for one of his cronies to later almost kill them all with Fiend Fire. In the space between heartbeats, Harry felt the smoke in his lungs, Malfoy’s arms around him, the fire closing in as they raced towards the door –

“Potter?”

Harry gasped as he slammed back into the present. Malfoy raised an eyebrow, but his hand was balled into a fist as he leaned his knuckles on the countertop. Harry closed his mouth, swallowed. He shook his head as he ran a hand through his mess of black curls, rubbed at the back of his neck.

“What are you doing here, Malfoy?” he asked, his voice caught between incredulous and accusatory. Malfoy’s grey eyes narrowed.

“I work here. What are you doing here?” he sneered.

“But…” Harry leaned forward and hissed under his breath, “This is a Muggle café.”

Malfoy leaned in so that their noses were inches apart, his crooked smile conspiratorial as he whispered back, “Yes, I know. As I said, I work here.”

Harry scoffed and rocked back on his heels. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. He raked his eyes up and down Malfoy’s form, or what he could see of it from the waist up. His hair was brushed back off his forehead, a faint blush lingered on his high cheekbones, his black apron was covered in coffee grounds, and the sleeves of his cotton button down were rolled up to the elbows. Harry frowned.

“Your Mark. It’s gone.”

Malfoy’s lips pressed into a thin line. “No,” he said. His voice became soft, if only for a moment. “It’s just covered up. They have a no tattoo policy here.”

“Oh.”

They stared at each other for too long, drinking in each other like men dying of thirst. Malfoy lifted his chin. Still proud, even after all these years.

“Oi, are you going to order, or just stand there ogling each other?” the man behind Harry demanded.

Harry and Malfoy both started. Harry cleared his throat while Malfoy refreshed his monitor and mumbled out something that sounded like, “what can I get you?” Harry ordered his cappuccino and a macchiato for his date. Malfoy raised his eyebrows.

“Two drinks?” Malfoy cast his eyes around the small café, as if expecting to find Ron or Hermione nearby. Harry knew he didn’t have to explain himself, but the words were out of his mouth before he could stop.

“Hermione set me up on a date. The macchiato’s for him.”

“Him?”

Harry clenched his jaw, waiting for the jibe, the sneer, the dirty joke. But it never came. Something flashed across Malfoy’s face, but Harry couldn’t decipher it in time.

“Right,” Malfoy said. “That’s £4.30, then.”

Harry fished out the Muggle coins and counted them out on the countertop. Malfoy swiped them and processed the transaction. Before he handed Harry his receipt, however, he asked, holding the piece of paper ransom in between his long bony fingers, “Why here? You could have had your date anywhere else. Why come here?”

Harry shrugged. He held his hand out for his receipt. “He picked it, not me. If it ends badly, as I’m sure it will, I promise I won’t blame it on you.”

Malfoy flashed him a grin. “I’ll take that promise and raise it to a bet. If it does end badly, your coffee’s on me.”

Harry laughed and snatched the receipt from him. “Done.”

When he finally made it back to his date, chuckling to himself, Joseph looked up at him curiously.

“What’s so funny?” he asked in his deep baritone. Harry waved him off.

“Just ran into someone I know. So, Hermione tells me you work for a non-profit?”

Half an hour later, Joseph gave him a tight-lipped smile. He tapped a finger against his empty espresso cup as he leaned back in his chair. Harry sighed and crossed his arms low across his waist.

“It was nice to meet you, Harry,” Joseph said. “Give my regards to Hermione, would you?”

Harry nodded. He watched the man leave, weaving his way through the crowded café. There was a small twinge of regret in his gut – Harry had to admit, the man looked good in those tight trousers, and Hermione had been so keen for this date to go well. In the end, however, they simply had nothing to talk about. Harry shook his head and reached for his drink, only to remember that his cup was empty.

A pale hand shot out and pulled the empty chair across from him out. Malfoy sat down heavily, crossed his ankle over his knee, and leaned his head in his hand as he grinned at Harry.

“That wasn’t so bad,” he said with a hint of his old drawl. “The way you were going on, I was expecting tears.”

“I wasn’t ‘going on’ about it,” Harry protested. “I was just… not optimistic, is all.”

Malfoy harrumphed. “Well, don’t expect me to cover your coffee. I expected a show and got nothing. Pretty pathetic if you ask me.”

“Fine.” Harry couldn’t help the way his lips were already twisting into a smile, even as he tried to fight it, digging his teeth into his bottom lip. “I didn’t promise anything anyway.”

“You did! You promised it would end badly!”

“No, I promised I wouldn’t blame you if it did. It’s different, see?” Harry pointed out. He leaned back in his chair, stretching out his legs under the table. His boots nudged something – he suspected Malfoy’s foot – but he didn’t pull back. Malfoy shook his head, that faint blush blooming again over his cheekbones. “How have you been, Malfoy?” Harry asked finally. Malfoy shrugged and looked away.

“Fine,” he said. His hands folded in his lap, prim and proper. “I’ve been keeping busy, as you can see. You should feel honoured that I’m spending my precious lunch break with you. My free time is sacred now, I’m sure you understand.”

Harry hummed. Malfoy had taken off his apron, giving Harry a chance to appreciate how well Malfoy had filled out after the war, the thin layer of muscle over the bones. Malfoy noticed him looking and raised an eyebrow.

“If you would desist disrobing me with your eyes,” he said, adding over Harry’s spluttering, “I’m not concealing anything, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ve been perfectly law-abiding for the past five years, thank you very much.”

“That’s not – Jesus, I just – ”

Malfoy waved him off. “I know you’re an Auror,” he said, as if revealing a dramatic secret. “It’s in the job description to keep an eye on ex-dark wizards.”

Harry rolled his eyes so hard he saw stars. “I had no idea you were even here, you prat,” he shot back. “How was I supposed to know the great Draco Malfoy was a bloody Muggle barista?”

Malfoy shrugged. “I expect you keep tabs on me,” he said, waving at Harry dismissively, a heavy silver ring glinting on his finger. “Wouldn’t be a surprise, after practically stalking me in sixth year.”

“In my defence, you were trying to kill Dumbledore.”

“In _my_ defence,” Draco spat, “the Dark Lord was going to kill me and my family if I didn’t.” He looked away again as if surprised by his own honesty. Harry blinked. He sat up and leaned forward, elbows braced against the tiny table. Malfoy didn’t look at him, his gaze focused on the rain that had started to fall on the pavement.

“You know I don’t… _blame_ you, or anything, for everything that happened.”

Malfoy scoffed. “Of course you don’t.” Still, he didn’t look at Harry. Harry let out a huff. When Malfoy didn’t turn back to him, his gaze slipped from studying Malfoy’s profile to where his trouser had ridden up slightly, revealing the white skin of his ankle and the inky design of a serpentine tail. Harry frowned.

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing at the tattoo with his chin. Malfoy followed his gaze.

“Oh.” He pulled his trouser leg down to hide it. “Nothing. Forget it.”

Harry pushed his glasses up his nose with a smirk. “Sure,” he said, drawing out the syllable as he relaxed back into his chair. He shook his head with a chuckle. “You are full of surprises, Draco.”

Malfoy smirked. “One of us has to be,” he retorted. He stood up and picked up the dirty dishes from the table. “Although, I have to admit, you’ve given me two surprises already today.”

As he turned to go, Harry stopped him with an outstretched hand. He’d meant to go for Malfoy’s elbow. Instead, his hand caught Malfoy’s hip, fingers pressing just above the waistline of his trousers. Malfoy’s cheeks burned red. Harry tried to ignore the way his stomach flipped over itself at the dark look in those grey eyes.

“Let’s do this again,” Harry said, his voice coming out a little rougher than he’d meant. Malfoy’s blush spread to the tips of his ears. “Get a drink with me next weekend?”

Harry watched Malfoy’s Adam apple bob as he swallowed. Instead of saying anything, Malfoy simply nodded, and sidestepped out of Harry’s reach. “I’ll owl you,” he mumbled. Then he hurried off to the back of the café, disappearing behind a swinging door leading to the tiny kitchen. Harry buried his face in his hands.

“Oh my god,” he groaned into his palms. “I just asked out Draco Malfoy.”


	2. Drinks with Harry Potter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Draco begrudgingly gets drinks with Harry... "for science."

“I’m not going to do it.”

Pansy looked up from the book she was reading on the sofa with a frown as Draco stormed into the living room of their shared flat. She raised an eyebrow as he threw his messenger bag into the empty armchair with a sharp flick of his arm, a rare display of force.

“Do what, darling?” she asked, marking her place and setting the book aside. She watched Draco pace the small space with a bemused smile. “Did your parents ask you to go home for the holidays again? In which case, good, you shouldn’t, not after last time.”

Draco dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “No, they’ve given up on that,” he said quickly. “You break one chandelier and you don’t get asked back for Christmas.”

Pansy smirked. She curled her legs under herself, content to watch the show. A flustered Draco was far more interesting than the Dostoevsky she was working her way through. The potted plant on their fireplace had begun to levitate shakily as Draco turned on his heel for another lap, and the empty cups on the coffee table were starting to lift up into the air.

“So what is it? What are you not going to do?” she prompted. Draco threw his hands up in the air.

“I’m not going to get drinks with bloody Harry fucking Potter!”

One of the cups shattered.

Draco stood in the middle of the living room, chest heaving, as he stared at the mess of shattered ceramic. He frowned as his shoulders slumped.

“Damn it, that was my favourite cup.” He pulled out his wand – the same wand _he_ had returned to him after his trial – and cast a _Repairo_. He sighed and sat down on the ground, pulling his knees into his chest as he watched the cup piece itself back together. Pansy, the shock slowly leaving her system, uncurled herself and leaned forward.

“Wait, back up,” she said. “Harry Potter… wants to get drinks with you? And that’s why you’re throwing a hissy fit?”

Draco let out a huff. Pansy laughed in disbelief.

“You ridiculous queen!” She shook her head and relaxed back into the sofa, picking up her Dostoevsky and pointing it at him with a grin. “You are so getting drinks with him. I need to know how this plays out.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “I am not going to get drinks with him just so you can have a laugh.”

“Oh, I’m already having a laugh,” she pointed out. “Ha ha ha, see? No, this is for science. Or, rather, the bet I’ve had with Blaise for the better part of twelve years. Don’t tell him I told you.”

Draco glared at her. “What bet?” he asked slowly. Pansy only shrugged. She opened back to the page she had marked and pretended to be absolutely absorbed by Russian nihilism. “Pansy, what bet?”

“That is for me to know and for you to find out. Which you will only be able to do if you get drinks with Potter.”

Draco’s glower grew murderous. Pansy ignored him.

“I could _Imperius_ you to tell me,” he said.

“No you won’t,” she intoned in a sing-song voice. She turned the page with a smirk as Draco got to his feet, cursing under his breath. “If you’re going into the kitchen, could you make me a cup of tea? Thanks, babe.”

Draco made a rude gesture, which she pretended not to see. “Make your own damn tea,” he mumbled. He picked up his bag and slouched off to his room, where he definitely did not write several drafts of a letter before sending a simple – ‘Next Saturday. 8pm. The Drowned Siren. Don’t be late. DM.’ He watched his grey owl fly off into the late afternoon sky with a scowl. He regretted a lot of things in his life, but this took the cake.

Drinks with Harry Potter. The only silver lining was that he might be banned from holidays with his parents for the rest of his life.

-

Draco was already at the pub when Harry arrived at 8:01pm. He was sat at one of the tables near the balcony overlooking the Thames, chin in his hand, watching the fog roll over the river. Harry took a second just to look at him. He was wearing a black jumper and charcoal grey jeans, his white-blonde hair swept back, a thick peacoat draped over the back of his chair. There was something like worry in the knit of his brow, the tiny frown tugging at his lips. Harry took a deep breath and made his way over to him. Here goes nothing.

Draco looked up at him as he sat down with his Guinness. Surprise flashed in his steely eyes. Harry tried to ignore the way his chest tightened.

“You’re late,” Draco said.

“One minute late,” Harry corrected him. “Hardly a crime.”

“Two minutes, actually. I almost left, since you obviously don’t care about wasting my time.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I’m here, aren’t I? Besides, you try to put a five-year-old to bed while getting ready for a da- for drinks.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “You have a kid?”

“Godson,” Harry clarified. “I have him whenever Andromeda needs a break, which just so happened to be this weekend.”

“And you just left a child on his own? Great parenting skills, Potter,” Draco sneered, but there was no malice in his voice. Harry chuckled and sipped his beer.

“Ron’s with him,” he explained. “And it just so happens that eight o’clock is his bedtime, so it all works out.”

“Does Weasley know you’re here… with me?” Draco added, looking down at his whiskey. Harry bit his lip. There was a softness to Draco’s voice he had never heard before, and instinctively he wanted to protect it, covet it. He took another sip of his beer.

“No,” he said. A sardonic smile twisted Draco’s face. “I just told him I was getting drinks with someone. Honestly, I think he was just glad I was getting out of the house, so I let him come to his own conclusions.”

“And what conclusions would that be?”

Draco looked him straight in the eye. His gaze pinned Harry in his chair, like a snake getting ready to strike. Harry had to remind himself to breathe.

“What do you think?” he asked instead of answering. Draco shrugged, not looking away, his eyes boring straight through Harry. If he didn’t know better, Harry would think he was reading his mind – but there was no sensation of strange magic probing his defences, leaving that oily, grimy feeling in its wake. He frowned. His own magic reached out curiously. Just like he would know Draco anywhere, he would know Draco’s magic from a mile away, which is what surprised him when he saw him in that Muggle café. How had he not felt it? Perhaps he was too absorbed in his own worries over that doomed date, or, more likely, Draco had learned to dampen his magic around Muggles. But now, now –

He felt himself relax as his magic met Draco’s, almost as familiar as his own. It tasted like petrichor and metal on his tongue, was soft as silk but cold as dragon scales. Draco’s eyes closed. For a moment, it seemed that he let Harry’s magic relearn his, let it linger over where Harry knew the Mark to be, let it travel up his arm and brush the column of his throat. Then his eyes opened. Harry’s magic was slammed back at him in a tidal wave. Harry only had a moment to ground himself before it hit him, pushing his chair back an inch and snatching the air out of his lungs. Draco raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t do that,” he said coolly. “It’s not polite.”

Harry blushed. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I was just….” He looked up at Draco, whose expression had gone cold and blank. Harry swallowed. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I overstepped.”

“You overstepped the minute you came into my place of work,” Draco retaliated. “You overstepped when you had the gall to ask me here. You’ve overstepped your whole life, why should I expect you to do any different?”

“For the last time,” Harry snapped, anger rising in his chest, “I didn’t know you worked there! And you were the one who talked to me after! And you said yes! You picked the time, the place, everything! You could have said no – so why didn’t you?”

Draco’s eyes narrowed. “How could I say no?” he demanded. Harry scoffed.

“Because you’re you,” he said. “You always get what you want.”

“Is that what you think?” Draco’s lip curled. “You think I want to be working in a Muggle café? You think I want to be making coffee for a living? You think that if any wizarding establishment would have me, which they won’t because of the damn Mark on my arm, that I would still be working for minimum wage at a fucking café?”

Harry opened his mouth, closed it again. Draco smirked, triumphant. Harry scrubbed his face, pushing his glasses up into his curls. Finally, he let his hands fall. He couldn’t quite make out Draco’s expression without his glasses, but he did see a faint blush of pink in his pale cheeks.

“I’m not here to attack you, Malfoy,” he said, picking his words with care. “I asked you out because anyone with eyes can see you’ve changed, and I wanted to get to know you, properly. Is that really so hard to believe?”

“Yes,” Draco said without hesitation. Harry set his glasses back in place, throwing Draco’s face into high relief. His jaw was still set in a defensive line, but his eyes had softened as they searched Harry’s face. Harry sighed.

“I promise,” he said. “I’m just here to talk.”

Draco frowned. “What if I don’t want to talk?”

“You’re you. You love the sound of your own voice.”

Draco shrugged. “Maybe. But maybe there’s something I’d like to do more than talk right now.”

Harry stared at him in confusion. So Draco leaned forward and brought his face an inch away from Harry’s. Harry’s heart sped as he glanced from Draco’s storm dark eyes to his pink parted lips.

“Tell me to stop,” Draco whispered.

Harry shook his head minutely. When Draco’s lips met his, Harry could feel his smile.

It was a chaste kiss, but Harry wanted more. He tried to part Draco’s lips with his own, moving to angle his head to deepen the kiss, but Draco pulled away with a smirk. He settled back in his chair, taking a sip of his whiskey, revelling in the bewildered look on Harry’s face.

“Wait a minute, then follow me.” Draco got up, setting his glass on the table and draping his peacoat over the crook of his arm. Harry watched him slip off into the depths of the pub, his eyes following his white blond hair as he wove through the drunken crowd yelling at the Quidditch match on the telly. Harry swore under his breath. Then he got up and followed him.

“So, how’d it go?” Ron asked. Harry fell into the chair at the kitchen table across from Ron, still dazed. Ron sipped his tea. He could tell _something_ had happened based on his friend’s messed up curls and the love bite blooming just at the edge of his collar. Harry shook his head, trying to clear it. He gratefully accepted the cup of tea that Ron poured him.

“Well,” Harry said at last. “It went well.” He did not add, _I just got a blow job from Draco Malfoy in the toilet of a pub_. He did not tell Ron that after, he had made Draco come in his trousers. Instead, he simply grinned, scaring Ron more than any details of his date could have. “Really well.”


	3. Bets, Tattoos, and Storytelling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco finds out how much his love life is worth. Harry has a thing for tattoos.
> 
> TW: homophobic comments by resident racist Walburga Black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hold on to your pants, it's about to get smutty up in here.

Draco hummed to himself as he made his morning coffee the next day. Pansy raised a carefully plucked eyebrow as she ate her toast. Draco didn’t even make his usual comment of insisting that she wear more than a thin bathrobe to breakfast while he turned the wireless on, a little skip in his step as he picked out an apple to eat.

“Gods, you’re chipper,” Pansy drawled. Draco smirked. “I take it drinks went well last night? Sorry I wasn’t here when you got back, Blaise and I had a fuck date last night.”

“Thus the negligée?” Draco asked as he sipped his coffee. Pansy pointed at him with her half-eaten toast.

“Exactly. By the way, I’m going to take a bath, so if you need the toilet….”

Draco shook his head. He tossed his apple in the air, caught it with one hand and took a bite. Pansy rolled her head to the side, lips pursed as she looked her best friend up and down.

“You got laid last night, didn’t you?” she mused. Draco, mouth full of apple, simply waggled his eyebrows. Pansy burst out laughing.

“HA! Yes! Blaise owes me twenty galleons!” she crowed. Draco almost choked. He just managed to swallow before he spat out,

“ _What_?”

Pansy ignored him. She got up and danced her way over to the fireplace, casting a wordless _Incendio_ and throwing a pinch of Floo powder into the flames. “Buh-laaaaise!” she called through the Floo. “I win! You lose! Pay up!”

Draco came just in time to hear Blaise swear and toss a velvet bag of coins at Pansy through the fireplace. She caught it with ease, grinning ear to ear. “Thanks, babe!” she purred.

“You just had that lying around, did you?” Draco asked. Blaise shrugged amidst the flames.

“It’s been a long time coming, mate,” he said. “Good for you. Now I’m going back to bed, I have the night shift at the hospital tonight. Good day.” He disappeared from view. The flames sputtered then went out. Draco turned on Pansy, who was counting out the galleons in the bag.

“Explain,” he demanded. Pansy lifted one shoulder in a shrug. She pulled her wand out and levitated a small, almost identical velvet bag out of the empty vase on the mantle piece that she had always said was purely ‘decorative’ and forbade Draco from putting flowers in it. Now he knew why.

“Blaise and I made a bet back in fourth year,” she said as she casually tossed both bags onto the coffee table. The galleons clattered in their velvet confines against the wood. “It was after you came out to me, and Blaise was consoling me over a bottle of Firewhiskey he nicked from his parents over the winter hols. You broke my heart back then, you know.”

Draco crossed his arms and shrugged. He had sat her down after the Yule Ball – she tried to kiss him, and he had stepped away, quite literally sat her down on a bench in a quiet hallway, and explained that he was gay. It was months before she talked to him again.

“Anyways, Blaise pointed out that if you were going to shack up with anyone, it would be Potter, seeing how obsessed with each other you were.”

Draco squawked in protest. “We weren’t _obsessed_ – we were enemies! Arch-nemeses! Rivals!”

Pansy snorted. “Please,” she said. “You two would stare at each other so much it was practically eye sex. Now, will you let me finish my story? Right. So, Blaise said you would end up with Potter before we left school. I said after. We’ve been waiting years just to see if I was right, and guess what, you predictable little queen? I was!”

Draco was flabbergasted. “How dare you bet on my love life!” he shouted. But Pansy just waved him off. She turned on her heel and strutted towards the bathroom, discarding the bathrobe as she went. Draco immediately swivelled away and covered his eyes with his hands. “Fuck, Pans! You want to blind me?”

She wiggled her hips and looked over her shoulder. “Nope,” she said, “just shut you up.” She cackled when Draco made a rude gesture in her direction and shut the door behind her.

-

Draco stepped out of the fireplace, dusting off the ash from his shoulders.

“Is that you, Draco?” he heard Harry call. “I’ll just be a minute!”

“How are you late to a date in your own home, Potter?” Draco called back. He heard Harry laugh, and was glad the other man wasn’t there to see the soft smile spreading across his face. He stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets as he looked around the drawing room.

He had never been to the Black residence, not even as a child and Walburga Black was still alive. His mother did not like her aunt much, and Draco didn’t blame her, based on the stories he grew up with. In any case, it looked like Harry had done his best to remove every trace of her and centuries of traditional Pureblood taste from his new home. Maybe the furniture was the same, just reupholstered – the claw-footed, bottle green velvet sofa gleamed in the light from the tall windows, an antique rug covered the polished floorboards, and a leather armchair was positioned next to a small end table covered in old copies of _Quidditch Digest_. Draco wandered over to the bookshelves that lined one wall, one finger trailing along the spines. Harry, it turned out, had an eclectic taste – either that or he was prone to being given books by Hermione and was too polite to get rid of them.

He heard an intake of breath and looked over his shoulder. Harry stood, leaning against the doorframe, watching him from a distance. He was barefoot and wore a tight black jumper that stretched across his broad chest and a pair of dark wash jeans. His green eyes reminded Draco of a cat, the way they looked him up and down, like he was a mouse Harry considered eating. Harry pushed his glasses up his slightly crooked nose with a smile.

“Hey,” he murmured.

“Hey, yourself,” Draco said, his voice a little rougher than he intended. He cleared his throat and turned to face Harry just as the other man crossed the room towards him. Within seconds, Harry’s hands were in his hair, and Draco was pulling him closer, lips not yet meeting as they breathed each other in. Draco’s minty cologne mixed with Harry’s more smoky smell, like a sharp wind on a winter morning, pine trees and frozen sap under the first snowfall. They leaned their foreheads together, both trying to get their heart rates under control.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you all week,” Harry whispered. Draco grinned.

“I also couldn’t stop thinking about me this week.”

Harry tugged his hair slightly. Draco gasped and laughed, his warm breath on Harry’s lips.

“Honestly, though,” Draco added, one hand skating down Harry’s back to grip his arse, watching in awe as Harry bit back his moan. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you either. Just wanted to see you come undone again, wanted to feel your mouth on me again, all of me.” He turned his head and nipped at Harry’s ear. Harry growled, pressed himself impossibly closer as he ground against Draco, making them both gasp and curse. “Gods, I want you so bad,” Draco groaned, tracing his lips along Harry’s stubbled jaw, kneading that wonderful arse just to hear Harry moan. He ducked his head to mouth along Harry’s neck, scraping teeth just to lick away the pain.

“Damn it, Draco, just kiss me already,” Harry gasped in a tone that Draco was sure was meant to be intimidating but came across desperate and needy. Draco chuckled. He made his way back slowly, so slowly, to Harry’s lips. When Harry tried to lean in and kiss him, he pulled back with a teasing smile. Harry growled again, low in his chest. He pulled Draco in and kissed him hard, and this time Draco let him. Harry pushed him up against the bookcase. Draco moaned as Harry’s hands slipped under his jumper, running up his back, gripping the bare skin of his hip. He tugged him closer, letting Harry slot right in between his legs, almost sobbing into Harry’s open mouth as their kisses grew hungry and insistent. Draco could feel his arousal coiling in his gut and he pushed Harry away, gasping for air.

“I refuse to ruin another pair of trousers,” he said when Harry frowned at him. Harry’s pupils were blown wide with lust, his hair even more of a mess than usual, and Draco couldn’t look away from the erection straining the front of Harry’s jeans. He knew exactly what it felt like, what it tasted like, and gods he wanted it in him as soon as possible. “Bedroom,” he said. “Now.”

Harry pulled him along, grinning like a fool, practically tripping up the stairs as they giggled and chased each other, grabbing at shirts, waists, hands. They came to the first landing, and Draco slowed and stopped. His laughter fell quiet as he stared at the hulking monstrosity of a frame that loomed out at an angle from the wall, as if the curtained portrait was standing over all those that stood before it. It was such a contrast to the tastefully painted walls, the abstract art covering the nail holes where stuffed elf heads were once displayed. Draco frowned. He reached out towards the curtains, just as Harry turned on the stair to look back at him.

“Draco, no, don’t-!”

But it was too late. Draco pulled the curtain back.

The silencing charms broke. Walburga Black’s shrieks filled the house, her painted face fixed permanently in a sneering grimace. Her eyes found Draco. She bared her teeth at him in what might once have been a smile.

_Now the half-blood traitor polluting the noble house of Black brings me a treat! Draco Malfoy, the disgraced son of proud Lucius, oh how the mighty have fallen! You cock-sucker queer filth, how dare you even look at me! Narcissa should have taken my advice and had another son, just so they could do what I did to my traitorous son – thrown you out on the street, burned your name from our hallowed family tree, struck you from the history books –_

The curtains shut, the silencing charms back in full force. Draco, shaking, looked over at Harry, although in truth he didn’t need to – he felt Harry’s magic without needing to see his wand pointing at the portrait. It crackled like lightning around him, setting his wild black curls on end. Fury shone bright in his eyes, his jaw tensed as he glared at the curtains, as if daring them to open again. Here was the Saviour of the Wizarding World in his avenging rage. A shiver ran down Draco’s spine. He held onto the banister with both hands to stay upright as he felt his knees start to give way.

Harry turned to him. It was like a switch had been flipped. Gone was the anger. His magic settled, his curls flopping down into their mess of wavy ringlets once again. He stuck his wand into his back pocket. His eyes were wide with concern as he made his way to Draco.

“Are you alright?” he asked. Draco took a ragged breath, tried to force a smile over his rattled nerves.

“Fine,” he said. “Nothing I haven’t heard before. She must have spoken with my father, it’s like Easter all over again.” He tried to laugh, but it came out a sob. Harry reached up, his fingers brushing Draco’s jaw as Draco twisted away, stepping back from the other man. He shook his head, his smile contorting as he said, “I should go, I’m sorry, this was a mistake.”

“Draco.” Harry grabbed hold of Draco’s wrist. Draco tried to pull away, but Harry was considerably stronger than him. Stupid Auror training. He reeled Draco in with ease, slipping one arm around his waist to hold him close. Draco froze for a moment. “I’m sorry,” Harry murmured. “Please don’t go.”

At this, Draco relaxed into the embrace. He wrapped both arms around Harry and buried his face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the smell of him, woodsmoke and the lingering electrical burn of magic. Then he felt it – Harry’s magic rising up again, not the lightning storm from before, but a soft caress that ran up the length of Draco’s body, making him shiver as it curled around his throat, up the side of his face, brushed against his scalp. Draco didn’t push it away this time. He let it in. And when Harry stepped back to lead him up the stairs once more, he felt Harry’s magic warm against his skin.

The second the bedroom door closed behind them, Harry pulled Draco back into his arms. Draco melted against him immediately, bracing his forehead against Harry’s as they swayed slightly where they stood, just holding each other. Harry ducked his head to press a kiss against Draco’s neck, nuzzled the skin behind his ear as he whispered, “We don’t have to do anything, if you’d rather just talk, or just sleep, I don’t care. I’m sorry, I should have warned you, we can’t get her portrait off the wall, we’ve tried everything, I’m so used to it I sort of forget it’s there, but God, I should have warned you, should have said something, I’m so sorry.”

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

Draco turned and caught Harry’s lips with his just to be sure. Harry grabbed hold of the front of his shirt, pulled him impossibly closer, licking up into Draco’s mouth. The kiss was slow and deep, exploring the sensation of lips against teeth against tongues. Then Draco pulled away, kissed along the line of Harry’s jaw, nipping his teeth along the line of his neck, making Harry gasp out a moan. He pulled at Harry’s jumper. Harry didn’t hesitate in taking it off and tossing it into a corner. Draco pushed him back towards the bed, a predatory glint in his eye as Harry, grinning, backed up until his knees hit the bed and he stumbled onto the mattress with a yelp. Draco snickered. Harry scowled, but then Draco was crawling on top of him, straddling his hips as he pushed him back into the mattress.

He kissed and licked down Harry’s chest, sucking at one dark nipple, than the other. Harry writhed and moaned under him, one hand gripping the sheets, the other tangling in Draco’s hair. He pulled Draco up, mumbling for Draco to take his jumper off, “Now, I want to feel you, all of you.”

Draco hesitated. He leaned over Harry, elbows on either side of his head, doubt shadowing his lust-blown eyes. “Are you sure?” he asked. “You- you might not like what you see.”

Harry shrugged. “Let me decide that. Off.”

Draco bit his lip but rocked back on his heels. Harry propped himself up, watching Draco slowly pull off his jumper, then the button-down beneath it. Draco tried to keep his fingers from shaking as he fumbled with the buttons. Finally, the last button was undone, and he shrugged the shirt off, tossed it with his jumper to the floor. Only then did he look up at Harry, his heart pounding in his ribcage.

A dragon spread its wings across his chest, mouth open in a snarl. Its tail curled down towards his belly button. Here and there, a pale scar could be seen, but the rest were covered by ink. Harry raised his eyebrows in shock.

“Holy shit,” he swore. “Was not expecting that.”

“You hate it, don’t you,” Draco mumbled. He crossed his arms over his chest to hide it. Harry sat up and tugged Draco’s arms away.

“Hell no, I love it. Wait.” His eye caught another flash of ink. He turned Draco’s arm over, expecting the Mark. Instead, there was a bouquet of flowers, narcissus, lilies and irises blooming across the faded skull and serpent. Harry’s breath caught in his throat. He traced the flowers with his fingers. Draco’s eyes fluttered closed at the gentle touch, only to open again with a gasp as lips replaced fingers and he looked down to see Harry kissing each and every flower, so sweetly and tenderly that he felt tears prick at his eyes. Harry looked up at him, his breath ghosting across Draco’s skin.

“Do you have any more?”

Draco nodded. Harry grinned.

“Where?”

So Draco got up and stripped down to his pants as Harry watched, a disbelieving grin on his face as he watched like a starving man at a feast. A serpent wound its way up his right leg, its fangs digging into the top of his thigh. He turned, his cheeks pink, as Harry stared, then suck in a gasp.

On his back, from the base of his neck down to the waistline of his pants, was a fork of lightning.

Harry’s hands were suddenly on his hips, pulling him close to the edge of the bed, making him stumble a little. Harry steadied him, his grip firm. Draco turned his head, about to ask what he was doing. He jumped slightly as Harry pressed a kiss to the branch of the tattoo on his low back, but then Harry’s lips moved up, mouthing along the path of lightning as he carefully pulled Draco down onto his lap. He kissed up to the nape of Draco’s neck, his hands sliding down from his hips to his thighs. One hand traced the curve of the serpent’s head, while the other brushed along the inside of his left thigh. Draco leaned his head back on Harry’s shoulder with a moan as he let his legs fall open, giving into the feel of Harry’s lips on his neck, his hands on his thighs. Then Harry was palming up his thigh, up his stomach, making Draco shudder. He splayed his hand over the dragon on his chest, pushing Draco against him as he rolled his hips up under Draco, grinding against his arse. Draco cried out. He reached back to tangle his hand in Harry’s curls as Harry sucked a love bite into his shoulder, grinding his hips down against the hard line of Harry’s cock, biting his lip to hold back the keen building in his throat.

“God, I need you, right now,” Harry growled into his ear.

“Yes, gods, please,” Draco gasped.

Harry chuckled. “I like the way you beg. But unfortunately,” he pressed a kiss against the love bite blooming on Draco’s shoulder, “I need you to get up so I can take my trousers off.”

“You’re a bloody wizard, Harry, just vanish them and get on with it!”

“Listen, the last time I tried that, I never got those trousers back. And my wand is in my pocket, I don’t want to risk it. Off.”

Draco rolled his eyes but got up, only to flop down on the bed behind Harry. Harry couldn’t stop smiling. Draco stretched himself out, arms behind his head as he settled against the pillows. Harry took his damn time taking off his trousers, his eyes constantly fixed on Draco, memorising the shapes and lines of his tattoos. Draco ran his hand down his own stomach, watching Harry watch him, never breaking eye contact as he slipped his hand under his pants. Harry swore, his eyes almost black with lust. He stepped out of his trousers quickly, then his own boxers, never looking away from the show Draco was putting on. Draco stroked himself languidly, mouth falling open in pleasure, his cock already leaking and staining the front of his pants. All the while, his eyes combed down Harry’s body. At the sight of Harry’s half-erect dick, he let out a shaky moan.

“Fuck me,” he swore.

“That’s the idea,” Harry said in a daze. Draco laughed. Harry grinned back and flicked his wrist. Draco yelped as his pants vanished.

“Hey! I liked those pants!”

“Sorry,” Harry lied, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “You’re probably never going to see them again.”

Draco pouted. “You’re buying me a new pair then.”

Harry shrugged as he climbed on top of him. “I can live with that.”

Before Draco could say anything else, Harry was kissing him. They rutted together, gasping into each other’s mouths, Draco slipping a hand down to the cleft of Harry’s arse. Harry pulled back with a laugh.

“Oh, no,” he chuckled. “You first.”

He kissed down Draco’s chest, following the curving line of the dragon’s body with his tongue. He ignored Draco’s leaking cock, despite Draco’s whimpers, instead mouthing along the crease of his thigh. He proceeded to kiss all the way down the serpent wound around Draco’s leg. Draco clutched at the pillows as he arched up, desperate for more. Harry kissed the inside of his ankle where the serpent’s tail coiled around the bone.

“Turn over,” he whispered against the skin. Draco nodded quickly. Harry let go of his ankle so that Draco could roll over onto his belly, the friction of the sheets against his neglected cock pulling a moan out of his throat. Harry’s hands ran up the back of his legs. He knelt between them, gripping Draco’s arse as he kissed down the crease. When Harry’s tongue skated across his hole, Draco almost sobbed.

Harry worked him open torturously slowly. A lubricant spell and three fingers later, Draco was pressing back against him, keening as each thrust brushed against his prostate.

“Gods, just fuck me, please, I can’t, I need more, please, Harry!”

Harry chuckled darkly as his fingers left Draco. A crackle of energy grazed Draco’s back as Harry wordlessly summoned something. Draco turned his head to look back at him. Harry saw him looking and grinned, all teeth and feral eyes. He stroked his cock slowly as he tore open the condom packet with his teeth. Draco whimpered, almost coming just at that.

“Ready?” Harry asked after he rolled the condom on. Draco nodded, biting his lip as he watched with bated breath as Harry pressed the head against his leaking hole. Then he was pushing in, and Draco had to close his eyes. His mouth went slack against the pillow. Harry filled him completely. Then he kept pushing in, and Draco thought he would burst. He didn’t give Draco much chance to adjust before he was pulling out again, before he was thrusting in even deeper, again and again and again. All Draco knew was pleasure. He pushed back, trying to get the angle just right. It all felt so good, and yet…

“Wait,” he gasped. “Let me ride you.”

If Harry was surprised, he didn’t show it. He slipped out and laid down next to Draco. Draco, meanwhile, had to take a couple deep breaths before he sat up and went about straddling Harry’s hips, lining up. He let out a slow breath as he lowered himself down and – ah, there it was. He leaned his head back with a breathless laugh. When he looked down, Harry was watching him, open-mouthed. He traced a hand up Draco’s stomach, past his weeping cock, to splay across the dragon rising and falling in time with Draco’s shallow breaths. Draco covered Harry’s hand with his own and held it there as he began to rock up and down, hard.

“Oh God, I’m going to come,” Harry warned him. Draco shrugged as if Harry had commented on the weather outside. He pulled Harry’s hand to his mouth.

“So come,” he said, before sucking on his index finger.

That sent Harry over the edge. As he came pulsing deep inside Draco, Draco finally reached down and stroked his own cock, coming within seconds. Draco collapsed against Harry’s chest, covered in his own sticky mess, gasping for breath. Harry let out a somewhat hysterical giggle. Draco barely had enough energy to raise his head and stare at him.

“I broke you, didn’t I?” Draco asked, still out of breath. Harry laughed again and shook his head.

“Nah, I just have never come that hard before,” Harry said. He waved his hand, sending a cleaning spell skittering across their sweaty skin, taking the spent condom with it. Draco thought about complaining – he never liked the way cleaning spells felt, like scrubbing with a dish cloth – but he was too tired. He nestled against Harry’s chest, and, with Harry’s hands running down his back, his magic like a warm blanket settling against his sweaty skin, fell into the deepest sleep of his life.

He woke a little while later to Harry’s arms around him, still nestled in the circle of Harry’s arms, rising and falling with each deep breath. He nuzzled against Harry’s collarbone. Harry chuckled, the sound rumbling against his ribs. He ran his fingers through Draco’s hair, and Draco hummed, content.

“How are you feeling?” Harry asked. Draco didn’t have to look up, he heard the smile more than he could see it.

“Mm, good,” Draco mumbled. “I might not be able to get up to go to work tomorrow.”

“Same. Maybe we could just stay here forever. It’d be fine.”

Draco hummed. “My landlord would disagree. Plus Pansy would think I’d died or something.”

“Parkinson?” Harry’s hands paused in Draco’s hair.

“Mm. She’s my flatmate.”

Harry’s hands moved, started tracing the lines of the lightning down the wings of his shoulder blades. “You never told me what happened,” he murmured.

Draco sighed. Harry seemed set on talking, then. He looked up, folding his hands under his chin. Harry propped his head up with one arm, his other hand still brushing along Draco’s spine. “What do you mean, ‘what happened’?” Draco asked. “Many things have happened in my life; you have to be more specific than that.”

“I mean, after the war,” Harry said. Draco groaned and rolled off Harry, landing with a huff on his back next to him. “What? Something must have happened. You work in a Muggle coffee shop. You share a flat, even though you and I both know – ”

“I don’t want my family’s money, alright?” Draco snapped. He covered his face with his arm, sighing irritably. “I- I couldn’t get a job after I finished my Potion’s Master certification, no one would hire me because they couldn’t be seen taking in fucking ex-Death Eaters, and…” He lowered his arm. Harry had turned on his side, watching him with wide eyes – he wasn’t wearing his glasses, and gods he looked so much younger without them. Draco looked away. He bit his lip, even as the words he never wanted to say began to fill his mouth.

“There was a year,” he said, his voice quiet, “when things got really out of hand. I was still living at the Manor, Father had just been released, and… I don’t remember a lot, I was drunk most of the time. I would go out, not come home for days, take a shower and repeat. I don’t know how he found out, not that I was trying to hide it, but – one day I came home, and my parents sat me down, told me that they had arranged for me to marry Astoria Greengrass, and I had to clean up or leave.”

He closed his eyes, lost in the memory.

 _The drawing room was too hot, the fire blazing in the grate, Draco sweating through his hangover as he tried to understand what his father was saying_.

 _“You can’t be serious,”_ _he said. His throat was scratchy, his tongue heavy and thick in his mouth. He turned to his mother sitting in her armchair, staring at her hands folded in her lap. “Mother, please. You know I can’t marry her. You know_ why _.”_

_“This is for the best, Draco,” Lucius said. He stood and went over to the window overlooking the Manor grounds, a shadow of the man who had left for Azkaban. Draco fell to his knees in front of his mother. He tried to grab hold of her hands, but she pulled them away, turned her head so he couldn’t see the tears rolling down her cheeks._

_“Mother, Mother, please. Don’t let him do this. I can do better, I promise.”_

_“It’s been done, Draco,” she whispered at last. “I’m sorry. It’s out of my hands.”_

_His vision grew blurry, and the room swayed. He swallowed. It was too hot, the sweat soaking through his shirt collar, the fabric sticking to his back. He searched his mother’s face, desperate for any hope at all. But there was nothing but tears._

“So I packed my bags and left,” Draco continued softly. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. Harry took his hand in his and wove their fingers together, his thumb rubbing Draco’s knuckle. Draco let out a shaky breath. “Pansy took me in. She helped me figure out how to get a Muggle job – I had to get a fake CV and ID card through the Ministry and everything. I got the café job, started being able to pay my half of the rent. Then, two years later, you show up and scare the living shit out of me.”

Harry’s laugh startled him. He looked over with a scowl, but Harry’s face was so gentle, his crooked smile so comforting, that Draco couldn’t help but smile back.

“I’m sorry, Draco,” Harry said. He shuffled a little closer and ducked his head to press a kiss to Draco’s shoulder. “I wish I could have done something, helped or… something.”

Draco pursed his lips. “Always trying to save the world, aren’t you?” he said, only half-joking. Harry shrugged. Draco shifted onto his side and pulled Harry into his arms without really thinking about it, as if it was natural to hold Harry, as if his arms were made to fit around him like a puzzle piece. “No,” he murmured, “I had to learn the hard way. I’d been coddled all my life. Besides, I certainly didn’t need a bloody Gryffindor swooping in to save the day.” Harry snickered against his neck, his breath tickling Draco’s sensitive skin. “What about you? I’ve gone and poured out my troubles, it’s your turn.”

Harry grumbled, but after a minute or two, he sighed and began to talk, his voice muffled against Draco’s neck.

“I spent a year helping to rebuild Hogwarts, splitting my time between cleaning up the castle and sitting in on trials for the Wizengamot, trying to make sure nothing like this ever happened again. Which of course it will, but I had to try, you know? Then Andromeda reached out. She was trying to raise Teddy alone and needed a hand. He wasn’t even a year old by that point. So I moved in with her for a bit, just until Teddy was out of nappies. I had started my training as an Auror by that point, so I moved back here.

“Hermione, Ron and I spent another year fixing this place back up – God, it was so bad, like, it was bad when the Order was here back in fifth year, and when we stayed here for a bit when we were hunting Horcruxes, but Jesus. Kreacher was furious, we had to toss so much stuff, half of it was cursed and the other half was a health hazard, it was ridiculous. Ron jokes that that’s what did him in in the end – poor thing died about, oh, a year and a half ago, about round when we were finishing the renovations. I’m kind of glad Teddy didn’t meet him, I think Kreacher would have given the poor kid nightmares. That’s about it really, that’s all that’s happened in the past five years.”

Draco mulled this all over. There were holes in Harry’s story, but at the same time it sounded too perfect – no rough edges, just the necessary steps taken after being the Saviour of the Wizarding World. He tangled his fingers in the curls on Harry’s neck, trying to tame the rat’s nest.

“What happened to the Weasley girl?” Draco asked. Harry let out a long breath.

“I don’t want to talk about her,” he mumbled.

“Why not?”

“I just don’t, alright?”

“Harry.”

Harry tried to bury himself in Draco, his arms around Draco’s back as he held onto his shoulders, his leg wrapped around Draco’s hip. Draco sighed. He was just about to give up on getting an answer from him when he heard Harry whisper,

“She left me.”

“Oh.” Draco nuzzled into Harry’s curls, squeezed him close. “I’m sorry.”

“’S fine. Was three years ago now.”

“Still. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed it.”

Harry shrugged. For a long while, they held each other, so tangled together that they were like two trees that had grown together, bodies and roots, breathing in time with the rise and fall of the other’s chest. Then,

“Harry?”

“Hm?”

“As much as I love this…”

“Mmhm?”

“I really have to piss.”

“Fuck, me too, I just didn’t want to say anything.”


	4. Cousin Once Removed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco meets Teddy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's very dialogue heavy, since that's how I started conceptualising it.

A few weeks passed. On their days off, they went for walks in the city. Draco dragged Harry to the British Museum to ‘educate him’, and Harry in turn took him on a tour of Camden. When Draco had to work at the café on Harry’s day off, Harry would visit him and order incredibly complicated drinks just to piss him off. The last time he did this, one of Draco’s colleagues sidled up to him and whispered, “Who is that guy? He’s such a dick.” Draco grinned.

“That’s my boyfriend,” he said, and proceeded to put far too much syrup into the espresso.

One night, they agreed to a night in at Harry’s. They were cooking dinner when Draco asked, seemingly out of the blue,

“So, when can I meet Teddy?”

Harry looked up from slicing the aubergine. “He’s your cousin, you could see him at any time, you know.”

“Yes, but he’s your godson,” Draco argued.

“You are literally related to him.”

Draco waved him off and busied himself with sautéing the onions. “I’m Pureblood, I’m related to almost every British witch or wizard to some degree. I’m sure we’re related if you go back far enough.”

“Very, very far, I hope.”

Harry involuntarily flinched away, laughing, when Draco raised his wooden spoon at him threateningly. “Fine, fine,” he conceded, hands up in surrender. “He’s actually coming over next weekend, you can meet him then if you want.”

“Perfect. I’ll see if someone can cover my Sunday shift.”

Draco turned back to his onions, but Harry still caught the soft smile he tried to hide. Harry grinned and shook his head. The knowledge that Draco was an absolute sap was Harry’s little secret. His heart soared as he hummed to himself, putting the slices of aubergine in a bowl for later. Draco raised an eyebrow, but Harry just beamed at him. He was too happy to explain.

-

Teddy barrelled out of the living room fireplace, squealing, “Uncle Harry! Uncle Harry!” Harry knelt down, spreading his arms wide for Teddy to collide into him. Draco stood a couple feet away, unsure and fidgety. Teddy noticed him over Harry’s shoulder almost at the same time that Andromeda unfolded herself from the fireplace.

“Oh good, he came through okay,” she sighed in relief. “He wanted to try by himself and ran through before – oh.”

Draco tried to smile. “Hello, Andromeda,” he said, surprising himself with his level voice. “I’m Draco. Draco Malfoy.”

The blood drained from Andromeda’s face. Harry bounced Teddy on his knee and tried to distract the boy from the tension between the other two by stealing his nose.

“Narcissa’s son,” Andromeda breathed. Draco nodded. “Gods, you are the spitting image of her, except the eyes.” She frowned. “But what are you doing here?”

“Er… I’m, erm…”

“He’s my boyfriend, Dromeda,” said Harry. He looked up at her, his jaw set and a defiant look in his usually soft eyes.

Silence fell. Even Teddy was still as he leaned his head against his godfather’s shoulder. Then the boy pulled back and asked, “Does that make him Uncle Draco, then?”

Harry blushed.

“Well, technically,” Draco said, unfreezing and stepping forward to rest his hand on Harry’s other shoulder, “I’m your cousin once-removed on your mother’s side.” Harry frowned at Draco.

“Draco, he’ s a kid.”

“Apologies.” Draco knelt down beside Harry. Looking Teddy dead in the eye, he said slowly, “I’m your cousin once-removed on your mother’s side, which means my mother is your grandmother’s sister and your mother is my cousin which means – ”

Harry face-palmed. Teddy giggled. Even Andromeda cracked a smile.

“You’re silly,” Teddy snickered. Draco’s expression melted into such sweet affection that Harry felt his breath catch in his throat. Teddy got off Harry’s knee and reached towards Draco’s head. Draco, very confused by this turn of events, initially pulled back, then warily lowered his head towards the no doubt sticky toddler hand. Teddy petted Draco’s hair in awe. “It’s so pretty!’ he exclaimed. Draco made a face, unsure whether or not to take the compliment. Then, Teddy screwed up his nose, and the black curls he usually wore around Harry turned into a white blond mop. Draco’s jaw dropped.

“You’re a Metamorphmagus!” He smacked Harry lightly in the shoulder, who yelped.

“What was that for?”

“Why didn’t you tell me he’s a Metamorphmagus?” Draco demanded.

“I didn’t think it was a big deal!”

“You should at least have mentioned it in the report card – oh, he’s five years old, likes custard creams, is allergic to cats and _by the way_ is a Metamophmagus, which means he’s the coolest five year old you will ever meet?”

“I can also burp the ABC’s!” Teddy added. Draco gestured at the child as if he’d just won a court case.

“Again, coolest kid ever. I couldn’t burp the ABC’s when I was that age, Father would have disowned me.”

Harry rolled his eyes with a grin. “Alright, then. Why don’t you take Teddy to the kitchen and start making the sandwiches for lunch, if you think he’s so cool?”

“I would be honoured.” Draco stood and offered his hand graciously to the beaming child. “May I escort you to the kitchen?”

“I like you,” was all Teddy said before taking Draco’s hand and all but tug-boating the man out of the living room. Draco let himself be led, turning to stage-whisper dramatically over his shoulder, “He likes me!”

Harry chuckled as they disappeared from view and Teddy’s chatter faded down the hall. He got to his feet, stretching a bit after kneeling for so long. Andromeda crossed her arms as she glared at him, one eyebrow raised.

“You have a lot of explaining to do, young man,” she said. Harry smiled sheepishly. He shrugged and ran a hand through his hair.

“Would it help if I said that I really like him?” he asked. Andromeda scowled.

“I’ve heard about him, about his family, _my_ family. Harry, they were _Death Eaters_. Pureblood supremacists. They condoned _murder_.”

Harry threw his hands in the air. “I know all that, Dromeda. I went to school with him, remember? I spoke in defence of him and his mother at the trials, remember? Yes, his father helped Voldemort rise to power, but his mother saved me from Voldemort, and, actually, so did Draco! They both could have given me up, but they didn’t. Yes, he has the Mark. But you saw the way he was with Teddy. He’s sweet and intelligent and more than a bit of a drama queen, but more importantly, he makes me happy. He’s changed since the war, and I would know, more than anyone.”

After his speech, Andromeda was quiet. She studied Harry, her own gentle magic searching for any signs of coercion or deception. Harry let her. He spread his arms wide, adding, “You’re not going to find anything. I’m not under his spell. I genuinely like him. And he, amazingly, likes me, too.”

“Yes, but how do you know that for certain?” she demanded, stamping her foot for emphasis. Harry let his arms fall heavily to his sides in exasperation.

“How do any of us know?” he shot back. “Andromeda, he’s good to me. We’ve been dating two months now, and not once has he tried to hurt me – intentionally, anyway, he did accidentally knock me over when he got startled by a spider the other day. It was very funny.” Harry sighed when Andromeda’s frown only darkened. His shoulders slumped as he shook his head at her. “What can I do to prove to you that he isn’t what you think he is?” he asked wearily.

“There’s nothing you can do,” she said with a small shake of her head. “Just make sure he doesn’t kill my grandson this weekend. Then I will hear what Teddy thinks of him, and you know Teddy.”

“He’d tell you you’re ugly to your face,” Harry deadpanned. “Out of the mouth of babes and all that.”

“Exactly. I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon. If he hurts my grandson – ”

“If he hurts Teddy, trust me, he’ll have me to answer to first.”

Once Andromeda had gone in a flash of green flames, Harry made his way towards the kitchen. He paused just outside in the hallway when he heard Teddy and Draco’s chattering voices.

“Now, how do you like your sandwiches cut, horizontal or diagonal?”

“Diagonal. Like Diagon Alley!”

“Very astute observation, young sir.”

“And I like the crusts off.”

“I’m sorry, that’s just wrong.”

“No, it isn’t! The crust tastes weird.”

“The crust is good for you.”

“How?”

Draco was silent for a moment. Harry had to bite his lip to keep from laughing and being discovered.

“You know what, I don’t have a good explanation for that. Crusts off it is.”

“Uncle Draco?”

“Yes, Teddy?” There was the sound of plates being set on the kitchen table, the scrape of a chair being pulled back.

“If you’re Uncle Harry’s boyfriend, does that mean you’re going to marry him?”

Draco made a choking noise. Harry covered his mouth with both hands, his face scarlet with the effort of holding back the laughter.

“Are you okay, Uncle Draco?”

Draco cleared his throat. Harry heard the soft ‘thunk’ of a water glass being set back on the table.

“Yes, thank you.” Draco’s voice sounded strained. “As for your, er, previous question, no, being his boyfriend doesn’t mean that I’m going to marry him. The word you’re thinking of is fiancé. Very different.”

There was a pause, then –

“But _are_ you going to marry him?”

At which point Harry decided it was time to come to Draco’s rescue.

Later that night, Teddy fell asleep in Draco’s lap, warm and drowsy after a bath and wearing his star-covered pyjamas, while Harry read him a bedtime story on the couch. When Harry moved to take him from Draco, Draco waved him off, picking up the young boy with ease. Harry followed them up to the bedroom across from what was once Harry’s but was quickly becoming _their_ room. Draco tucked Teddy into bed as if he’d been doing it all his life. Harry kissed Teddy goodnight before following Draco out into the hallway.

“You did really well with him today,” Harry said as they got ready for bed later. Draco couldn’t hide the self-satisfied smile that spread across his face.

“It’s easier than I thought it would be,” he said. He pulled his pyjama shirt over his head. “Although, I guess this was just one day. And he was very well-behaved.”

“I think he really likes you,” Harry said. He got settled into bed and set his glasses on the bedside table. Draco chuckled to himself as he got in beside Harry, tucking himself into the other man’s side.

“Well, he’s definitely looking out for your best interests, that’s for sure. If that means I get the Teddy stamp of approval, I’ll take it.”

Harry debated for a moment as he cuddled with Draco. Then, he admitted, “I heard him ask you if you were going to marry me.”

Draco froze. “Oh shit, you heard that?” He laughed. “Well, no point in denying it. He was quite insistent on it.”

Harry snickered. “Yeah, there’s no in-between in his book, either you’re single or you’re married.”

They both had a good laugh at this. After Harry turned off the lights and they settled down to sleep, he heard Draco murmur, “It’s not a terrible idea, being married to you.”

Harry grinned. He gave Draco a kiss on the forehead. “Glad to know you don’t hate the idea,” he murmured back. “But don’t worry, I’m not going to propose just yet. You need to survive a Weasley Christmas first.”

Draco groaned. “I hate you.”

“Love you, too,” Harry chuckled. Then they both realised what he said. Draco sat up slightly, wide-eyed.

“Do you mean that?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Harry thought about it. To his astonishment, he realised that he did.

“Yeah, I do. I love you. Wow, that’s wild to say out loud, especially since it’s only been two months. You don’t have to say it back,” he added quickly, but Draco cut him off.

“I love you, too.”

They beamed at each other, their faces lighting up in the darkness.

At around 2am, Harry and Draco jolted awake when their bedroom door opened. It was only Teddy. He came over to their bedside as Draco flopped back onto the pillows, grumbling about ‘having a heart attack’. Harry rubbed his eyes and asked blearily, “What is it, Teddy?”

“I had a bad dream,” Teddy whispered. Harry was pretty sure he heard Draco mumble, “join the club,” and kicked him under the sheets. “Can I sleep with you?”

“Of course.” Harry shoved at Draco, who groaned and shuffled over to make room for Harry to scoot back. Teddy crawled in next to Harry, his small warm body fitting snuggly into the circle of Harry’s arms. Draco, not to be ousted, snuggled up against Harry’s back and wrapped his arm around the two as he buried his nose in Harry’s curls, breathing in deeply the smell of pine soap and that slightly spicy smell so specific to Harry, like pepper and clove. They fell asleep in each other’s arms, safe and sound.


	5. Suspension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry tells Ron about Draco. Things do not go so well.
> 
> TW: implied homophobia, references to sexual harassment, public outing

Andromeda sent Harry an owl on Monday morning. Harry, running late for work, brought the letter with him so that he could read it at his desk before diving into the pile of paperwork Senior Auror Singh had left for him. When Ron came over with coffee, he found Harry grinning ear to ear as he finished reading Andromeda’s letter. He raised his eyebrows and set Harry’s mug of coffee on his paper-strewn desk – seriously, how the man ever knew where anything was, Ron had no idea.

“What’s that, a love letter?” Ron asked. Harry shook his head, pressing his lips together to hide the grin as he put the letter in his pocket to respond to later.

“No, just a letter from Andromeda,” he said. He took a sip of his coffee and sat back in his chair. Ron leaned against his desk, his brow furrowed.

“Everything okay with Teddy?”

“Oh, yeah. Actually, he was over this weekend. And, er, he met the guy I’m dating,” he said quickly. Ron’s jaw dropped.

“What?” he spluttered. “Hermione and I haven’t even met the bloke and you’re introducing him to Teddy? Merlin’s tits, he better not be a fucking psycho killer or something!”

Harry snorted into his coffee. “Well, I figured Teddy would be a good litmus test, you know, if he didn’t like him then that would be the final word on that.”

“Oh, so you trust the word of a toddler over the word of your best mates? Great, love that you value a five-year-old more than me and, for that matter, Hermione. I take it went well then, since Andromeda seems to approve – she was okay with it, wasn’t she?”

“Yeah, yeah, apparently Teddy wouldn’t shut up about him so she’s happy,” he reassured Ron. Teddy had been particularly enamoured with the tattoo on Draco’s arm, which he’d seen when Draco had come down to breakfast in his pyjamas. Ron put his coffee down and crossed his arms and ankles as he fixed Harry with a significant look.

“So, when are we meeting him then?” he asked. Harry flushed bright red. Here it was, the moment he had been dreading from the start.

“Well, technically, you’ve already met him,” he said slowly. Ron’s eyebrows disappeared into his fringe. Harry bit his lip. “It’s, erm… it’sDracoMalfoy.”

“WHAT?”

Several people in their vicinity turned to stare at Ron. Ron ignored them, too absorbed in glaring in shock and fury at Harry, who slipped so low in his chair that he might as well have crawled under his desk.

“Draco Malfoy? You’re dating that little fucker?” Ron bellowed. His face bypassed red and went straight to puce. “After everything’s he’s done?”

Harry really wished he could Apparate out of the offices, but there were wards in place against that. Ron looked like he could hit Harry. Based on his clenched, white-knuckled fists, he was considering it. The entire department had gone quiet, watching the two of them. Harry could feel his ears burning.

“He’s changed?” he offered. But Ron wasn’t having any of it.

“I don’t care if he got an Order of Merlin, that bloody fucking prick tormented us for six fucking years!”

“Aurors Potter and Weasley!” Robards boomed. He strode over to the pair with a strict look that could rival McGonagall’s any day. “This is a place of work. Could you please lower your voice and act with at least a modicum of decorum?”

Ron hung his head, but Harry could still feel his side-long glare boring into him. Harry inched back into his chair as they both mumbled apologies. Robards narrowed his eyes.

“Potter, my office, now,” he growled. “Weasley, return to your desk. Tea time is over.”

Ron slouched off to his desk. Harry sighed. He knew that he had not heard the end of it, and that by this evening, he would have Ron _and_ Hermione on his case. He got up and followed Robards into his office, the eyes of the entire department burning into his back as he passed. His magic snapped. A few people yelped as they were shocked with a small, barely noticeable really, burst of electricity. Robards shot him a look over his shoulder. Harry’s shoulders crept closer to his ears and he did his best to look apologetic.

Robards closed the door after Harry and gestured for him to take a seat in front of the massive desk. Harry sat down warily, fidgeting with the buttons of his uniform. Robards let out a long sigh as he settled himself in his office chair, staring across the desk at Harry over steepled fingertips. A middle-aged man with greying black hair and sharp black eyes, Robards was someone Harry had come to look up to during his training and now as a uniformed Auror. His stomach sank at the prospect of what was to come.

“Potter, you know my policy about personal life in the DMLE,” Robards said carefully. Harry nodded.

“Leave it at home, sir, I know,” he said.

“Precisely. So why was Auror Weasley shouting to high heaven about your dating life for everyone from my office to the Department of Mysteries to hear?”

Harry chewed his lip and stared at his hands in his lap. “It’s a bit of a long story, sir,” he finally managed. Robards frowned.

“I don’t care if it’s a long story, there shouldn’t be a story at all. You’re not here to gossip with your friends, Potter, you’re here to work.”

“Sorry, sir,” Harry mumbled. “Won’t happen again, sir.”

“It better not. Now, since you’ve not done anything wrong, I want you to think of this as a friendly warning, nothing more, do you understand?” Harry nodded. “Good. As for the, er, subject of Weasley’s caterwauling….”

Harry flinched. It wasn’t exactly public knowledge that Harry fancied men and women, although there had been rumours in the _Prophet_ since he and Ginny had split. Thanks to Ron, however, apparently the whole department now knew he was dating Draco, who, as they all knew, was a man. Robards sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“It’s none of my business, Potter, you know that,” Robards said quietly. He lowered his hand and considered his next words carefully, crossing his legs as he frowned at his folded hands on his knee. “I should let you know that, while it is perfectly legal for you to have, er, homosexual relations – again, whatever you do in your private life is your business – I would, er, rather you not flaunt it about in the workplace, if you understand what I mean.”

Harry frowned. “No, sir,” he said, “I don’t think I follow.”

Robards stared up at the ceiling. “I mean,” he explained, still staring at what appeared to be a burn mark on the plaster, “that it would not be considered appropriate for you to discuss your, erm, lifestyle while you remain employed in the Ministry.” Only once he had gotten his words out did he look at Harry. Harry swallowed back the nausea rising in his throat, his tawny skin pale as Robards’ words sunk in. Robards sighed. “Do you understand what I’m saying, Potter?”

Harry’s hands shook. He balled them into fists, his nails digging into the flesh of his palms. He took one deep breath, then another. Anger rose like a thundercloud in his gut as the shock began to fade. Robards frowned as his bookcase and the blinds on the window looking out across the bullpen began to shake. Pieces of paper began to lift up into the air. The smell of burnt hair and electricity filled the room.

“So,” Harry snarled, “McKinnon can parade his mistresses in and out of the department while his _wife_ works upstairs, Long can date women half his age who are barely legal and bring them to the office parties without so much as a reprimand, but I mention I have a boyfriend and you give me a _warning_?”

“Potter – ”

“Just so I understand, _sir_ , my colleagues can chat up witnesses and sexually harass female members of staff – which let me tell you, I have half a mind to tell the _Prophet_ about, especially after I spent my entire lunch break last week consoling Julia from Accounts who has had half the department trying to get in her pants – you are perfectly okay with _that_ happening, but I have a happy, healthy, consensual relationship with a man, and _I’m_ the one who gets dragged to the Headmaster’s office? Do you have any fucking idea how that sounds?”

“Potter.”

“ _What_?!”

There was a loud crack, and Robards’ office window shattered. Harry squeezed his eyes shut. He was definitely going to get fired.

“Potter, I’m suspending you for the rest of the week,” Robards said, his voice dangerously quiet. “Take some time to cool your head, think about what I’ve said. Then, next week, I expect you to return with a professional attitude befitting your position, do you understand?”

Harry lowered his head. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now go see Ms. Wallace for the forms. I’ll see you next week. And Potter?” he added as Harry stood and made to go. “I want you to know that if you weren’t the Chosen One, I would have fired you just then.”

“I’m aware, sir,” Harry said with a sigh, his shoulders slumping. “Thank you, sir. Your generosity truly knows no bounds.”

Robards let out a huff of laughter. “Don’t push your luck.”

“I don’t know, sir,” Harry said. He turned in the doorway, one hand on the frame as he smiled coolly at Robards. “I’m a pretty lucky man. Takes coming back from the dead to know.”

Draco frowned when Harry came into the café later that day. There was a long queue for the lunch rush, but the look on Harry’s face was enough for Draco to take off his apron, tell his manager that he was taking his fifteen minute break, and slip out from behind the counter. He grabbed hold of Harry’s wrist and tugged him towards the disabled toilet. He locked the door with a flick of his wrist.

“Harry? What happened?” he asked. Harry shook his head, wild curls falling in his tear-filled eyes. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around Draco and shoved his face against his shoulder. Draco, a little surprised, only hesitated a moment. Then he pulled Harry in close. He rubbed his back the way he knew Harry liked, pressed three kisses in a row to Harry’s temple, and murmured little reassurances in his ear. “I got you, it’s okay, it’s alright.” When Harry’s sobs began to shake through his entire body and his tears soaked through Draco’s shirt, Draco only held him tighter.

Slowly, Harry’s breath began to even out. His grip on the back of Draco’s shirt relaxed. He sniffled.

“If you wipe your snotty nose on my shirt, I swear to the gods,” Draco warned. Harry let out a wet chuckle.

“You’re a bloody wizard, just use a cleaning charm,” he mumbled.

“Ugh, fine, but only because I love you.”

He still grimaced when he felt Harry very pointedly rub his nose on Draco’s shoulder. “I take it back, I hate you,” he muttered. Harry kissed his neck just above his collar. Draco rolled his eyes. The man knew all his weak spots. They were quiet for a moment, still holding each other as they stood there in the small toilet, trying to ignore the stale smell of urine and cleaning product. Finally, Draco asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Harry shrugged, his cheek against Draco’s damp shoulder. “No,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Not right now, anyway. You’re working. I should let you go.”

“Yeah, probably,” Draco admitted. He rubbed Harry’s back. “But I’m legally allowed a break, so you’ve got, oh,” he cast a quick _Tempus_ charm, “seven minutes before I have to go back.”

“This is going to take longer than seven minutes.” He gave Draco a quick, tight squeeze. “I’ll tell you later. Come by mine after?”

“Of course,” Draco murmured, pressing his lips to Harry’s forehead. “I’m off in a few hours. You going to be okay?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be fine,” he said quietly. He straightened up just enough to give Draco a quick kiss. “I love you,” he whispered against Draco’s lips.

“I love you, too.” Draco leaned in and gave him one last kiss. “Few hours, okay? I’ll even stop by my flat and raid Pansy’s liquor supply, I know she’s been holding out on me and she has back to back shifts at St. Mungo’s so she’ll never know.”

Harry giggled, making Draco smile stupidly. He brushed the remnants of tears off Harry’s cheeks with his thumbs, straightened his glasses for him, then stepped back, his hands resting on Harry’s hips, loathe to say goodbye just yet. Harry gave him a small, shaky smile. He tapped Draco’s shirt with his wand, leaving the fabric spotless.

“Good to know your cleaning charms aren’t like your vanishing charms, I definitely couldn’t go back to work shirtless and you still owe me a pair of pants. I would rather not add this shirt to the list,” Draco teased. Harry rolled his eyes. He pecked Draco on the corner of the mouth, making a pale pink blush spread across Draco’s high cheekbones.

“See you,” he whispered. He unlocked the door and let them both out, giving Draco’s hand a squeeze before he made his way out of the crowded café. Draco watched him go with a worried crease between his eyebrows. One of his colleagues, a precocious eighteen year old with the aesthetic of a 1970’s movie star named Abigail, followed his gaze as she came to stand by his side, balancing a loaded tray of dishes on her hip.

“What was that all about?” she asked in her low, dry voice already scratchy from too many cigarettes. “That was your boyfriend, right?”

“Yeah,” Draco said. He bit his lip as he watched Harry’s dark form weave its way through the people outside until it disappeared around the corner. “I’ve only seen him like that a few times, and every one of those was disastrous. You didn’t hear me say this, but I’m scared shitless. Something really awful must have happened.”

Abigail frowned. “How bad could it be?” she asked. Draco scoffed.

“You have no idea.”

Draco found him sitting cross-legged in the middle of the living room, at the epicentre of what looked like a small nuclear explosion. Picture frames lay snapped on the floor, the sofa had been blasted into the wall, and every shelf in the bookcase had snapped, spilling books everywhere. Harry stared into the empty fireplace, his face blank as he turned his wand over and over in his hands. Draco set his messenger bag down as quietly as he could and approached Harry the way one would a wounded lion.

“Harry? You alright?” he asked cautiously. Harry didn’t look at him as he shrugged. Draco sat down next to him, eyeing the destruction around him. There were several cracks in the walls. The lightbulb in the lamp by the armchair had burst. Draco leaned back on his hands with a low whistle. “Circe’s pigs, Potter, I’m glad you didn’t do this at the café or I would have had a lot to explain to my manager.”

Harry’s lips quirked up for a second, then fell back. Draco looked at him sadly. He wrapped one arm around Harry’s shoulders. “Come here, baby,” he murmured, pulling Harry with him so that they laid on the floor, Harry’s head on his chest and his arm around Draco’s waist. Draco ran his hand up and down the side of Harry’s torso. Several silent minutes passed.

Then Harry asked, “Did you just call me baby?”

Draco snorted. “What? No. You must have misheard me.”

“You definitely called me baby.”

“Oh hush.”

Harry laughed, and Draco couldn’t help but smile. He kissed the top of Harry’s head as he held him against his chest with both arms. “Fine,” he mumbled, “maybe I did.”

“You definitely did. I kinda liked it.”

“Hmm. Noted,” Draco said with a grin. But all too soon, his grin faded, and the worried crease formed once again between his eyebrows. “So, are you going to tell me why the living room looks like you dropped a Muggle bomb in it?”

Harry’s mouth twitched. “It’s pretty bad, isn’t it?” he asked guiltily.

“Harry, Hogwarts looked better after the Battle than this room does now.”

Harry sighed. He shifted and waved his wand at the room. Immediately, the room began to piece itself back together – the cracks in the wall filled, the sofa righted itself and shuffled back to the centre of the room, the picture frames hung themselves back up, the bookshelves mended and the books flew back into place. Even a merry fire burst into flame in the fireplace. The coffee table, unsure what to do about the two men in its spot, simply got a bit taller and arranged itself above them. Harry exhaled sharply through his nose. He got up grudgingly, pulling Draco with him so that they could get out of the coffee table’s way, which immediately lowered to its normal height once they sat down on the sofa. Harry looked down at his hands.

“I got suspended,” he said. Draco gasped.

“What? What for?” he demanded. He hesitated, then asked suspiciously, “What did you _do_?”

Harry bit his lip. “I may have broken the Head Auror’s office window,” he said in a small voice. Draco’s eyes bulged. Harry shrugged, a minute rise and fall of his shoulders. “To be fair, he deserved it.”

Draco dragged his hands over his face, his fingertips covering his mouth as he stared at Harry in consternation. “Okay,” he said, lowering his hands back into his lap, “start from the beginning. What happened exactly?”

By the time Harry finished explaining, Draco wasn’t sure who he wanted to hex, Ron or Robards. He took a deep breath. Then another. Then he dropped his head into his hands. He let out a quiet stream of swear words as he stared at his knees.

“Yeah,” Harry muttered. “Definitely not the best moment of my career.”

Draco looked up at him, his jaw set firmly. “Fuck them,” he said. Harry made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “No, really. Weasley shouldn’t have outed you, and Robards… well, I hate to say it, but he’s just a symptom of a much larger problem, but still. Fuck him. Fuck them both.” He put his hand on Harry’s knee and gave it a gentle squeeze. “If you want me to march in there and give them a piece of my mind, I will.”

Harry laughed properly this time. “No,” he said slowly. “Thank you, really, but I think that would just make things worse. Ron I can talk to. Robards….” He fell quiet. He pursed his lips as he stared distantly into the fire. Draco did not like the look in Harry’s eyes. Something died in Harry’s eyes that day. It would take a long time before they came back to life again.

“What are you going to do?” Draco asked. The corner of Harry’s lips twitched.

“I’m going to quit.”


	6. Grievances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione isn't quite ready to accept Harry and Draco's relationship just yet...

“What are you going to do?” Draco asked. The corner of Harry’s lips twitched.

“I’m going to quit.”

“No,” Draco said firmly. “No, you’re not. Not over this.”

Harry turned to him with a frown. “Why not?”

Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He sighed and took Harry’s hands in his. “If I quit everything because someone made a homophobic comment, I wouldn’t have a job. Or friends,” he added with a slight raise of his eyebrows.

“What about with your parents?” Harry argued.

“That was different. They made that choice for me,” said Draco. “And besides, in this case, you have something I could never have – you are the bloody Chosen One, the Saviour of the Wizarding World, Saint fucking Potter.” He smiled crookedly at Harry’s little huff of annoyance at his accolades. “Yes, what they did was shitty, but you have a chance here to make some real change.”

Harry groaned and leaned his back against the sofa cushions. “What if I don’t want to do that, though?” he whinged. “What if I just want to have a normal life for once?”

Draco picked up one of the decorative throw pillows behind him and hit Harry with it. Harry yelped.

“What was that for? I thought you were supposed to be consoling me!”

“Not if you’re going to be like that about it!” Draco crossed his arms when Harry pouted at him. “Your sad faces aren’t going to sway me on this. For Merlin’s sake, Harry, this is more than just you, you realise that, don’t you? Who knows how many other LGBTQ people in the Ministry are struggling because of conservative, bigoted policy? But if Harry Potter says something, _does_ something, things might change.”

Harry snorted. “You put far too much faith in my position,” he said morosely. “If it was that easy, they would have gotten rid of the Dementors at Azkaban already, or taken my advice and started a Prisoner Rehabilitation Program, or done anything with any of the fucking proposals I sent Kingsley my first year or so on the force. Nothing.”

The room grew quiet. The winter winds rattled the windows as the night settled in, the only light left in the room coming from the crackling fire. Draco held the pillow to his chest as he traced Harry’s features with his worried eyes. He leaned forward and stroked the crooked line of Harry’s nose with his finger. Harry gave him a confused, side-long look.

“I’m sorry I broke your nose in sixth year,” Draco whispered, pulling his hand back. Harry blinked.

“To be fair, I was spying on you at the time,” Harry pointed out. “And besides, I think I did more damage later that year.” He brushed Draco’s collarbone through his button-down, the scars hidden by ink, fabric and a very ugly pillow. Draco tried to shrug and smile it away, but his lips trembled and he clutched the pillow tighter.

“Yeah, well. We both made mistakes.”

Harry didn’t say anything. His gaze grew heavy as he looked at Draco, the hand at his collarbone coming up to cradle Draco’s jaw, his thumb brushing his cheek. Draco leaned into his touch, their eyes saying everything they could not put to words.

Then, a voice came from the fire. They both jumped, Harry’s hand falling away as they turned to look for the source.

“Harry? Harry, are you there?”

It was Hermione. Her bushy hair flickered in the flames as she leaned forward and called, “I know you’re there, I can see your shoes.”

Harry sighed. He got up to go and kneel in front of the fire. Draco hesitated, then joined him – Harry’s Gryffindor nature must be rubbing off on him, not that he would ever admit it. Hermione’s eyes narrowed for a moment. Then she turned to Harry and pretended to ignore Draco entirely.

“Ron told me what happened and, oh, Harry, I’m so sorry, he shouldn’t have reacted like that. I gave him a piece of my mind, let me tell you, and he’s very apologetic about it now. He says he was so caught up in the moment that he didn’t realise the consequences of his actions which is just so typical of him. Anyway, apparently after you left he got told off by Robards as well, he wasn’t suspended though which surprised me because you were clearly the victim in this case, you really shouldn’t have been suspended whatsoever, and if you want me to try and challenge it I can.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “You done?” he asked. Hermione considered it for a second, then nodded.

“Yes, I think that’s everything.”

Harry flashed her a quick smile, but Draco saw that his hands had curled into fists on his thighs. He bit his lip.

“Did Ron tell you I broke Robards’ window?” Harry asked. Hermione let out a long-suffering sigh.

“Yes, he did.”

“Did he say why?”

Hermione frowned. “No? He just assumed it was because you got suspended.”

Harry chuckled darkly and looked down at his clenched fists. “Yeah, well, that’s not what happened. I broke his window, and then I got suspended.”

Draco smirked at the dawning realisation on Hermione’s face. He shifted and drew his knees up in front of him, settling in for what he knew was going to be a long conversation.

“Harry,” Hermione said slowly, “why did you break Robards’ window?”

Harry shrugged with a bitter smile as he looked back up at Hermione’s face in the flames. “Oh, I just took offence to him telling me not to flaunt my lifestyle choices at work. I guess me having a boyfriend counts as flaunting, now.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped.

“That’s _bullshit_ ,” she swore.

“That’s what I said,” Draco piped up. Hermione only glared at him. Harry, on the other hand, shuffled closer to brush his shoulder against Draco’s, a wordless ‘thank you’. Draco reached over and held Harry’s hand, giving it a small squeeze.

“Harry, I don’t think Robards can legally say that,” Hermione said. “You have every right to be upset if he was discriminating against you for being bisexual.”

“Could you tell him that?” Harry asked, glowering. “Because he seemed to be under the impression that it was against Ministry policy for me to be in an openly gay relationship.”

“Of course, Harry, I can definitely bring it up with him.”

“Now why is it that when Granger offers to tell Robards off, it’s helping, but when I offer, I’m not helping?” Draco demanded, raising his eyebrows at Harry. Harry gave him a teasing smile and poked him in the shoulder with his free hand.

“Because when you do it, you’re a bloody menace, but when Hermione does it, she’s a professional. There’s a difference,” he replied. Draco glared at him. Harry rolled his eyes and gave him a quick peck on the cheek as an apology. Draco ducked his head against Harry’s shoulder so that Hermione didn’t have to see him blushing. Hermione, meanwhile, watched their little interaction with a sceptical look, her lips pursed.

“You really are dating Draco Malfoy, then,” she said at last. Harry sighed.

“Yes, I really am,” he said. “I love him.”

Draco pressed a kiss to Harry’s shoulder through his shirt. “Love you too, you git,” he murmured, just to see Harry smile.

Hermione shook her head. “Well, I have to admit, I’m not entirely pleased about it,” she said carefully. “Don’t give me that look, Harry, you know I have every reason to be unhappy. Need I remind you that his aunt carved the word ‘Mudblood’ into my arm? Or that he tormented us for six years while we were at school?”

“I’m right here, you know,” Draco protested, straightening up a bit in his attempt to look dignified. His body was starting to gripe about sitting on the hard stone hearth, and he crossed his legs, trying to get comfortable. “And I would rather not be made responsible for my criminally insane aunt, thank you very much.”

Hermione frowned as she turned on Draco. “Alright, then,” she said, her voice calculating and cold. “Let’s do this, shall we?”

“Er…”

“We all know Harry can hold a grudge, so the fact that you two have made amends-”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Harry muttered.

“-tells me that he, at least, has either come to forgive you or is using his heart rather than his head.”

“Or his other head, if you know what I mean,” Draco said under his breath. Harry snorted. Hermione ignored them and continued.

“So, here is how this is going to go,” she said. “I am going to raise my grievances against you, and I will give you a chance to defend yourself. If I find your responses adequate, then I will consider approving this relationship.”

“This isn’t a bloody inquiry, Hermione!” Harry protested, just as Draco said, “Sounds reasonable.” Harry frowned at Draco, who shrugged.

“You can’t be serious,” Harry said, perplexed.

“Think about it,” Draco replied. “We apologised to each other, Granger should get the chance to do the same.”

“Excuse me, but what do I have to apologise for?” interrupted Hermione.

“You punched me in the face in third year,” Draco said, pointing his finger at her. “I’m not saying I didn’t deserve it, but still.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Alright, fine, I’ll give you that. Now, on to my grievances.”

Harry made a strangled noise but Draco ignored him. He gestured for Hermione to continue. She took a deep breath – Draco braced himself, pulling his and Harry’s joined hands into his lap.

“Firstly,” she began, “I would like to raise the fact that you continually referred to me by a slur and verbally abused me – all three of us, really – for six years.”

Draco waited for her to continue. She didn’t.

“Oh that’s – right, well. Where to begin. Erm, well, I will apologise now for using that slur all those years. I knew better, I knew what it meant, I knew that it hurt you – I meant it to hurt you. I _wanted_ to hurt you, all three of you.” Harry squeezed his hand. Draco lowered his head to look at their joined hands, chewing his lip and tracing the scar on the back of Harry’s hand with his fingertip – _I must not tell lies_.

“I wish I could say that I was just… parroting what my family taught me, and to an extent it was. I took their word for gospel and didn’t think for a second that they could be in the wrong. That is, until sixth year… But the thing is, I hated all three of you because you were everything I wanted to be. Harry was the centre of attention,” he chuckled when Harry scoffed and teased him for being ‘a little peacock’, “and you, Granger, were the smartest in our class even though you were everything I was taught to think of as inferior. And Weasley, well, Weasley was Harry’s best friend, a position I had wanted from the beginning and was brutally denied.”

“Draco, we were eleven,” Harry said with a small, disbelieving laugh. Draco smiled a bit sheepishly and shrugged.

“Still,” he said, looking up first at Harry with his heart in his eyes, then to Hermione. “I’m not saying that anything I did is forgivable. What I am saying is that I am sorry. For all of it. If I could go back with a Time Turner and change it all, I would.”

Silence fell. Hermione nodded a few times to herself as she mulled over Draco’s words. A pocket of sap crackled and popped in the fire. Harry brought their joined hands up to brush his lips along Draco’s knuckles, his magic slipping a warm tendril around Draco like an electric current, warm and tingling against his waist.

“Well, Draco,” Hermione said at last, after clearing her throat. “You definitely sound remorseful. I accept your apology. Now, my second grievance – does your family still own house elves?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “But I don’t live with my parents. I haven’t in two years, and trust me, there are no house elves in my flat, just ask Pansy. Yes, Parkinson – she’s my flatmate, she took me in after my parents evicted me.”

Hermione frowned. “Evicted you? For what?”

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to,” Harry murmured, his earnest eyes warm like summer. But Draco shook his head and forced a smile.

“My parents, much like Robards, didn’t approve of my, er, lifestyle choices. Except I also had a bit of a drinking problem at the time, so there was that as well.” His smile faltered. “Although, they definitely still don’t approve of the gay thing – if you thought I was verbally abusing you while we were at school, you should have heard some of the things my father said when I visited last Easter. First time in two years, and Father’s vocabulary has only improved.”

Draco’s laugh was hollow and mirthless as the memory came back to him – he had gone, hoping that two years had been enough, that he could offer the olive branch, make amends, only for his father to ask him, after far too many glasses of wine for lunchtime, if Draco had come to his senses or if he was still ‘taking it up the arse’. That’s when the chandelier broke. He looked away from the pitying look in Hermione’s eyes and swallowed past the lump in his throat. “In any case,” he said, “my parents and I, we, er, don’t speak anymore. So. I imagine they still have house elves, but I don’t, probably never will, now that I’ve worked in food service.”

Hermione blinked at him. “I have so many questions,” she said, half to herself. “But I guess now’s not the time… Right, well, I guess I can’t hold your parents’ decision to continue enslaving house elves against you. Erm, right, so. That just leaves my last grievance then.” Her head shifted amongst the flames, and Draco could imagine her rolling her shoulders back, the young lawyer in training. “Over the years, I have known you to be a coward. I have known you to be arrogant, rude, and mean, not caring about anyone but yourself. So how can I expect you to treat Harry well?”

“Seriously, Hermione?” Harry scoffed. “How the hell is he supposed to answer that?”

Draco gave Harry’s hand a squeeze and smiled reassuringly at him when he turned with frustrated concern in his furrowed brow. “It’s fine, really,” said Draco. He shifted his weight a bit with a long, deep breath. When he looked up at Hermione, his gaze was level and calm.

“You’re right,” he said. “I was a coward. I was everything you accuse me of being and more. I was pretentious, stuck up, and self-centred. And I can honestly say that if I was still all those things, Harry would not only remind me every day – ”

“You know I would,” Harry agreed.

“– but he would not see fit to love me, because that version of me was unlovable. I would know.” Harry made a noise of protest, but Draco squeezed his hand and continued. “After the war, I hated myself for everything I did and didn’t do. It took a madman living in my home, threatening me and everyone I love, reducing me to nothing to realise how horrible I had been. It took me being off my face drunk for a year and leaving the Manor to properly start over. It’s only been two months, but I think Harry would agree that I treat him well, and I have no intention of hurting him, even if he does snore like a lion in heat.”

“I don’t snore!”

“Yes, you do,” Draco and Hermione said in unison. Harry gaped at them.

“I feel so attacked right now,” he sulked. Draco snickered.

“I’m sorry,” Draco said teasingly. “I’ll make it up to you later, I promise.”

“Oh, really?” Harry grinned. “Do tell.”

“Alright!” Hermione shouted, waving her hands in front of her face as if to erase the image from her mind. “That’s enough from both of you. Jesus, I don’t even _want_ to know – fine, Draco, I waive my grievances towards you.” She drew something in the air and added, “I bless this relationship, as strange as it may be. Now, please, never tell me about your sex lives, ever.”

“What, because it’s two men having sex?” Draco shot back. Hermione blushed and flapped her hands at him.

“No, no, God, no, it’s because Harry is like my brother and I just don’t want to hear about my brother having sex, alright? Christ on a bike, I’m just going to go. Oh look, I think Ron just got home, I’ll talk to you later, alright? Unless – Harry, do you want to talk to Ron?”

Harry sighed. He rubbed the heel of his palm into his eye, dislodging his glasses slightly. “Honestly,” he mumbled, “not right now. I get it, he’s sorry, but – I’ll talk to him later, alright? Good night, Hermione.”

“Night, Harry.”

Her face flickered, then disappeared. One of the logs cracked as the fire began to collapse in on itself. Harry groaned and flopped onto his back, knees up and feet inching dangerously close to the fireplace.

“God, today has been such a shit show,” he grumbled. Draco hummed and, disentangling his hand from Harry’s, moved to lie on his side next to him, propped up on one elbow as he looked down at Harry. He reached over and splayed his hand on Harry’s warm stomach, watching it rise and fall with each breath. Harry’s expression softened. “I’m sorry for all that,” he said, his voice just above a whisper. “That was a lot to deal with.”

Draco lifted a shoulder, let it fall. “It had to happen,” he said. He trailed his hand up Harry’s navel, his fingers tracing patterns over his shirt. “I have a lot to answer for.”

Harry frowned and caught Draco’s hand with his. “You shouldn’t have to answer for all the mistakes you made in the past,” he argued. Draco shrugged again.

“If I don’t,” he mused, “how can any of us move forward?”

Harry sat up, Draco’s hand falling away from his chest as he cradled Draco’s jaw. Without a word, he leaned in and kissed him sweetly, deeply. They moved slow, everything that could not be said pouring into each touch, each breath shared. Later, as they lay tangled on the floor, rocking against each other, steady like the tide, glorifying in the slide of skin against skin, Draco realised in a moment of pleasure that nothing came more naturally to him than loving Harry Potter. And that was quite alright by him.


	7. Incredibly Stupid, Incredibly Brave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco go to a Ministry gala. Robards is outnumbered. The boys get some good news, and Harry has a realisation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the penultimate chapter - an epilogue will be coming soon.

It was New Year’s Eve. Harry adjusted the cuffs of his dress robes over his button-down as he stepped into the hallway. “Draco,” he called up the stairs. “We have to go, we’re going to be late!”

Distantly from the first-floor toilet, he heard Draco shout back, “No one is on time to a gala, babe, calm down.”

Harry laughed and shook his head. Draco had been getting ready for the better part of two hours. The last time he had checked in on him, Draco was yelling at his reflection while only wearing a towel – that had been an hour ago. He leaned against the wall, one foot braced against the base board, and shoved his hands into his pockets. It had been a long two months.

He had ultimately decided not to quit the force. Not just yet, anyway. He and Hermione had drawn up a formal complaint against the department for discrimination, but it had gone nowhere. There simply had not been enough proof to condemn Robards for his words. In the process, however, Hermione had discovered that there were no laws in place protecting individuals from discrimination in the workplace. It became all too painfully clear why the Ministry had been able to get away with targeting Muggleborns during the war. When Hermione had told him, wringing her hands as she trembled with rage and far too much caffeine, Harry had sat down at his desk, his knees giving way with shock. He looked around the bull pen, at all of his colleagues, at Julia from Accounting who was walking by holding the contents of her desk in a cardboard box – she had handed in her resignation the week Harry was suspended.

“We have to do something,” he said to Hermione as Julia passed them, sharing a sad smile with Harry as she did. “This has to stop. Now.”

“What did you have in mind?” Hermione asked. Harry turned in his chair, pushing his hair out of his face with a determined set in his jaw.

“We’re going to rewrite the law,” he said.

By the time Christmas rolled around, they had a solid draft to present to the Wizengamot. It had meant countless hours pouring over legal literature, past court cases and Ministry statistics. Countless hours of the pair arguing over bylaws while they camped out at Draco’s café in their off days, Draco secretly bringing them free refills as they worked. On his lunch break, Draco would join them and go over their drafts, pointing out gaps in their arguments and correcting grammar. While Draco was all too happy to help, he did have to put his foot down when Harry tried to work on the draft in bed. He had snatched the document from Harry and stuffed it under the bed, saying, “You have to turn off sometimes. Besides, how can you concentrate when I’m right here?” Harry had rolled his eyes but nonetheless took off his glasses and happily concentrated on his boyfriend. When Draco woke up at around four in the morning, his body heavy and sluggish from sex and sleep, it was to Harry reading the draft over by the light of his wand, mouthing the words to himself as he did so.

Next week, Harry and Hermione would present their case to the Wizengamot, but tonight was their first battle. Harry was taking Draco to the Ministry’s New Year’s Eve gala, not as a ‘friend’, but as his date. Which was probably why Draco had spent the past few days stressing over his outfit, and two hours getting ready.

“Alright, Potter, let’s get this over with.”

Harry looked up. His heart stuttered in his chest. Draco frowned.

“What? What’s wrong? Is it too much?”

Harry shook his head. “No,” he choked out as he reminded himself to breathe. “No, it’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

Draco blushed. He wore a set of sleeveless charcoal grey robes that buttoned up to his throat over his pale, cornflower blue button-down and dark, well-tailored trousers. His hair was pushed back off his forehead, the ends curling slightly. He fidgeted with the heavy silver signet ring on his right hand under Harry’s gaze as he stood on the landing.

“You sure? Is the blue okay? I almost went with green, but I thought that wouldn’t work with the robes, and then I thought maybe white would be more traditional…”

“Draco?”

Draco looked up.

“Come down here so I can kiss you.”

Draco’s blush darkened until his cheeks were completely crimson. He came down the stairs, stopping on the last step as Harry strode over to him, his hand trailing on the banister. He bit his lip to hold back his pleased smile and draped his arms around Harry’s neck. The robe was made of a heavy wool, and it itched slightly against Harry’s palms as he rested them on Draco’s narrow hips.

“God, you are gorgeous,” Harry murmured. Draco could no longer contain his beaming smile.

“I know,” he intoned. “But it’s good to hear you say it. Means I succeeded.”

Harry rolled his eyes and grinned. He rolled up onto the balls of his feet to press a lingering kiss to Draco’s lips, tasting his own mint toothpaste in Draco’s mouth. He tried to deepen the kiss, but Draco pulled away with a laugh.

“We have a gala to go to, remember?” Draco chastised. Harry shrugged.

“We don’t _have_ to go,” he said, pulling Draco against him. Draco exhaled sharply as he fell forward slightly into Harry’s arms. “We could just stay in.”

Draco harumphed and extracted himself from Harry’s arms. “Oh, no,” he said, making his way towards the living room and the awaiting fireplace. “I spent far too much time on all this just to stay in. You’re just going to have to wait.”

But when Harry joined him on the hearth, Floo powder in hand, Draco hesitated. Harry sighed. He gave him a kiss on the cheek and offered Draco his arm. Draco looked at him and smiled timidly as he took Harry’s arm.

“Ready?” Harry asked. Draco nodded.

“Ready,” he whispered.

A few moments later, they stepped out of the fireplace into the atrium of the Ministry. No one noticed them at first, everyone too absorbed in the extravagant winter scene that had been recreated inside the space. Draco looked around and let out a small laugh.

“It’s like the Yule Ball all over again,” he observed, his voice distant even as his grip on Harry’s arm tightened ever so slightly. Harry looked over at him and smiled.

“Except this time, I actually want to be with my partner,” Harry said. Draco turned to him, his expression caught between teasing and loving.

“And you say I’m a sap.”

Harry laughed and tugged Draco along so that they could free up the fireplace for the next guest.

As they made their way out of the entrance hall and into the atrium proper, filing in amongst the other well-dressed Ministry members, they tried to ignore the looks and whispers behind their backs. Instead, Harry pointed out how they had set up a spell to make the ceiling look like the night sky, just like at Hogwarts, and Draco in turn pointed out the moving ice sculptures of reindeer on high pedestals that cocked their heads and pawed at the marble beneath their feet.

As they came into the atrium, however, it seemed that word had gotten round that Harry Potter had arrived, with Draco Malfoy. People turned to stare openly at them as they made their way around the room. In the corner of his eye, Harry saw Draco raise his chin a little. The proud tilt of his head was enough for a number of people to look away, but not all. Harry gave Draco an encouraging smile. Draco’s returning smile was tight, his silver eyes flashing as he leaned in and whispered in Harry’s ear, “Don’t you dare leave me for a second in this pit of vipers.”

“You survived Christmas at the Burrow,” Harry pointed out in an undertone. “I’m sure you’ll be fine here, too – at least here everyone has to be polite.”

Draco scoffed. “Trust me, Harry, everyone here knows how to hide their torture under niceties.”

“Alright then,” Harry said, his smile growing crooked as he unhooked Draco’s hand so he could wrap his arm around the other man’s waist. He heard a couple at one of the nearby high tables gasp audibly, which only made him hold Draco closer. “I promise to stay by your side the whole evening.”

“Thank y-”

“Even when you go to the loo.”

Draco rolled his eyes, but his smile was more relaxed as he muttered, “Why are you like this?”

“Because you love it,” Harry teased, scrunching his nose up at Draco with a grin. “And you love me.”

Draco wrapped his arm around Harry’s waist so that they could walk more comfortably. “Alright then,” he said, “I guess I’ll keep you around then.”

Harry’s bark of laughter startled a nearby witch, making her spill champagne on her dove grey gown. He and Draco, whispering and giggling like children, finally ended up at Ron and Hermione’s table, where Hermione’s reproachful look only made them giggle harder.

“You two aren’t high, are you?” she asked. “Because I swear to God -”

Draco smothered his giggles as he tried to sober up. Harry grinned and shook his head, taking his seat beside her. “No, we’re not high,” he assured her. “We’re just allergic to judgemental looks, that’s all.”

Ron’s eyes followed Draco’s every move as he sat down on Harry’s other side. Draco ignored him and leaned over Harry to ask Hermione if she had seen the news about the recent tests of a new experimental potion at St. Mungo’s – the two had miraculously bonded over a shared intellectual curiosity that often left Harry third-wheeling in the conversation. He gave Draco a look and received a confused eyebrow raise.

“Do you want to sit next to Hermione?” Harry asked in the same tone he used when he asked Teddy if he was going to behave or carry on having a tantrum. Draco shrugged.

“Yeah, sure, that makes sense. Scootch.”

Harry chuckled and got out of his chair so that Draco could slide in. He gave Draco a quick kiss on the top of his head before making his way over and dropping into the empty chair next to Ron.

They never actually talked about what happened the day of Harry’s suspension. Ron had come over for tea a few days after, probably at Hermione’s behest, and after an awkward moment of them both staring at their shoes, they had carried on as normal. At Christmas, he had noticed Ron glaring daggers at Draco, but amidst the hubbub of Weasleys, it was easy to guide Draco out of firing range. It had helped that Teddy was there. He and Draco were practically inseparable the entire time, and if Draco noticed Ron’s glaring, he didn’t say anything.

Harry looked over at Ron, who was struggling not to scowl at Draco next to his wife. “Please stop trying to curse my boyfriend with your mind,” Harry said wearily. “Tonight is hard enough as it is.”

Ron finally turned towards Harry, his brow furrowed. “I thought he would love the spotlight,” he said under his breath, waving a hand at the pomp and elegance around them. “Honestly, I’m surprised he’s still sat with us and not kissing up to some of the top brass here.”

Harry caught Draco’s eye for the briefest of moments. He knew Draco had heard by the slight exasperated eye roll he gave Harry before focusing back on Hermione’s discussion on unstable potion ingredients. Harry passed his hand over his face with a sigh. “You forget that he’s been basically shunned out of wizarding society,” he pointed out, slouching in his seat as he crossed his ankle over his knee. “Tonight’s less like opening night and more like dropping him in a pot of boiling water.”

Ron scoffed as he crossed his arms. “I doubt it, but fine. Why bring the git, then?”

“Because,” Harry said as slow and clear as possible, “he’s my boyfriend and if I’m going to bring a date to an official event, I’m going to bring him. Also, this is bigger than both of us. People need to see that it’s okay for us to be out in the open, rather than trying to hide who we are.”

Ron frowned. He picked at a loose thread in his dress robes – a much nicer tweed set than the maroon ones he wore to the Yule Ball, if still a little worn. Harry let out a long breath through his nose and sat up, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “Ron, you’re my best mate,” he said quietly. “Just do me this favour and try to not hate him? For me?”

Ron shrugged, still frowning at the spot on his knee where the problem thread stuck out. “I’ll try,” he mumbled. Harry grinned.

“I’ll take that.”

“Mr. Potter,” boomed a voice just behind Harry. He jumped and sat up, turning towards the voice. His stomach dropped.

“Hello, sir,” he said as he stood to greet Robards. Robards looked even more sever than usual in his dress uniform, all black with gold trim. Harry noticed his gaze slip past Harry towards Draco, who, unlike Ron and Hermione, had not made any move to acknowledge Robards’ presence. Instead, Draco sat, still facing Hermione, focused on picking a hangnail on his thumb.

“I see you brought Mr. Malfoy with you,” Robards said coolly. Harry raised his chin and stuck his hands in his pockets.

“Yes, sir, I did,” he replied, his tone matching Robards’. Harry was slightly taller than Robards, who was in contrast stout and barrel-chested, a man of war during a time of peace. Robards looked at Harry as if he wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed or impressed.

“He must feel very out of place here. I heard that he’s been working in a Muggle restaurant for the past two years. Shame he hasn’t been able to find any proper work,” Robards added, a knowing gleam in his eye. Harry tried to keep his lip from curling. His magic, on the other hand, had no problem showing its displeasure. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as the electrical charge began to build in his fingertips, and he clenched his fists, trying to hold himself together.

“It’s a café, actually, sir,” Harry said as neutrally as he could. “And you’re right, it is a shame, because he has all the proper qualifications in Potions Mastery. You would think people would set aside their prejudices and see the man for who he is, not for what they think he is. But I’m sure you have nothing to do with him getting denied every work opportunity available, would you, sir?”

Robards’ eyes narrowed. “Be careful what you are insinuating, young man,” he said. “You’re in enough hot water as it is, just bringing him here.”

“Why?” Harry demanded. He cocked his head innocently. “Is it because he’s an ex-Death Eater, or because he’s my date? Because if it’s the former, trust me, those days are behind him. If it’s the latter, well.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice to a stage whisper, “Let’s just say that you might not get to, er, _warn_ me about it much longer.”

Robards flushed, his black eyes hard and cold while a muscle jumped in his jaw. “Well, then, Mr. Potter,” he gritted out between clenched teeth, “let’s also say that while you may be protected by your _esteemed_ position, your _date_ is not, and if he just so happens to get in a spot of bother, I’d like to see you try to save him then.”

The dishes and silverware on the table began to shake. The smell of burning plastic filled the air as it crackled with Harry’s raging magic. He was distantly aware of the scrape of a chair as Ron stood behind him, but almost immediately, Draco was at his side, his hand on Harry’s shoulder, steady and firm. Draco’s own magic encased him like a silk blanket, dampening the electrical surge radiating off of Harry. The tableware trembled, then stilled. Harry closed his eyes for a moment. When he took a deep breath, his lungs were filled with Draco’s scent, citrus and mint. He exhaled slowly and opened his eyes, still glaring at Robards. Robards looked from Draco to Harry with undisguised contempt.

“I see who really wears the trousers in this relationship,” he sneered at them. Draco raised an eyebrow, but Harry was faster.

“We both do, sir,” he said. “That’s the point.”

He heard Ron snort behind him and grinned. Draco pressed his lips together to resist the smirk that threatened to spread across his face. Robards, however, was not amused. But before he could get in another snide remark, Hermione had gotten up and put herself in between him and Harry. She pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders as she looked Robards dead in the eye.

“I would advise you not to say anything more, sir, lest you further incriminate yourself,” she said icily. “There are enough witnesses here that would be more than happy to testify that you are threatening and verbally assaulting these two men, and I for one am not afraid to take you on in a court of law.”

Robards scoffed, incredulous. “You can’t be serious,” he said. Hermione crossed her arms.

“Try me.”

His eyes flicked from Hermione to Harry and Draco, then to Ron just behind them. Slowly, the realisation that he was outnumbered began to dawn on his face. He took a step back, his lip curling. He jabbed his finger over Hermione’s head at Harry. “This is not a war you can win, Mr. Potter, I can assure you of that,” he spat.

“You sure about that?” Draco asked, one eyebrow raised in challenge. Robards did not reply. He shot Draco a dirty look, then turned on his heel and stormed off towards his own table. All four of them watched him retreat like an enraged bull in black military dress, before letting out a collective sigh of relief.

“Well,” Harry said, wrapping his arm around Draco and relaxing against him, “at least it can’t get any worse than that, right?” Draco rolled his eyes and pulled him in closer.

“Don’t jinx it, you idiot,” he muttered. “Just watch, someone will try to hex me before the night’s over.”

“If they do,” said Ron, making both of them turn in surprise, “they’ll have to get through me first.”

Harry and Draco blinked at him. Hermione went over to her husband and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “There’s the Ronald I married,” she murmured. “Now come on, let’s all sit down, I think the dinner is going to be served soon.”

Ron brightened almost immediately at the mention of food. He sat down, eagerly craning his neck to see if he could see any servers with the dinner service. Hermione chuckled to herself as she took her seat next to him. Before they sat down, Harry turned to face Draco, his arms still around Draco’s waist while Draco rested his hands on Harry’s shoulders.

“I love you,” murmured Harry. Draco’s lips twitched.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “I love you, too. Any reason for this little announcement?”

Harry shrugged. “Just wanted to say it.” He brushed his lips against Draco’s, so briefly it was barely a kiss. There was a flash of a camera, then another, like blinding white fireworks. Draco pulled him in for another kiss, one hand tangling in his hair as he held Harry close.

 _Pop! Pop!_ More flashes of white burned behind Harry’s closed eyes. He didn’t care. Let it be all over the front page. They weren’t hiding anymore.

Draco finally broke away. He leaned his forehead against Harry’s as they both caught their breath. Draco looked up at him through his lashes, his grey eyes twinkling as he grinned. They didn’t know which one started giggling first, but once they started it was almost impossible to stop. Harry buried his face against Draco’s shoulder to smother his gasps of laughter while Draco rubbed his back with one hand, his own laughs bubbling out of him in surprised hiccups.

“Gods, I don’t know if that was incredibly stupid, or incredibly brave,” Draco said, still trying to get his giggles under control.

“There’s a difference?” Harry asked, his voice muffled against the woollen fabric of Draco’s dress robes. Draco shrugged. He stepped out of the embrace, one hand coming to intwine with Harry’s as he pulled them back towards their seats, smiling the entire time. Harry grinned back. He knew what everyone would say behind their backs, what they were already whispering across the atrium, but he didn’t care. Later, he would frame the frontpage photo of him and Draco kissing in all their finery and hang it over the mantle piece in their – yes, _their_ – living room. He wanted all the world to know. He loved Draco Malfoy, and Draco loved him back. If the whole world came for them, it wouldn’t matter – they had fought off worse and won. Who’s to say they couldn’t do it again?

A few weeks later, the Wizengamot released their decision to pursue an anti-discrimination bill, declaring Harry and Hermione’s case a victory. Robards was indicted, but ultimately released, much to their dismay. But, as Draco pointed out as Harry ranted about it for the fifth time that week while they moved the last of Draco’s boxes into Grimmauld Place, “Two steps forward, one step back is still progress.”

That same night, Harry decided to break some news to Draco. They sat at their kitchen table eating takeaway pizza after a long day of moving and unpacking – “How is there so much stuff in such a tiny flat? Why do you even own a _panini press_?” – chatting about Pansy’s promotion from orderly to Assistant Medi-Witch.

“It’s great to see her doing something she loves, you know? A happy Pansy is a good thing for everyone, let me tell you,” said Draco, taking a bite of his pizza. “She had an existential crisis about a year ago after working I think five graveyard shifts in a row, and I thought I would have to find a new flatmate because she was going to go run off to Iceland and become a sheep herder. Thank gods she didn’t. Could you imagine her as a shepherd? The woman wears heels when she wants to relax. _Heels_.”

Harry rested his head on his hand, his elbow propped on the table, as he listened with a contented smile to his boyfriend talk. When Draco went to take another bite, the closest to a pause in the conversation Harry could find, he asked, “What about you?”

Draco’s brow furrowed as he chewed. He swallowed and dabbed at his mouth with one of the thin serviettes that had come with the pizza. “What do you mean?” he asked. “What about me?”

“Are you doing something you love?”

Draco’s laugh startled out of him. “Babe, I had to explain to someone why I couldn’t make a soy cappuccino today, and I hate that I even know why I can’t,” he said with a bemused smile. “Of course I’m not doing something I love. I’m doing something that pays the bills.”

“But you don’t have to pay rent anymore,” Harry pointed out. “And really the only bills I have for this place is the Ministry property tax and water bill, and I can cover all of that, have done for years. So why not do something you actually enjoy?”

“Like what?” Draco asked. He sipped his water, his eyes narrowing at Harry over his glass. “You’ve been up to something, haven’t you? You had that long call yesterday and were being all cagey about it. Come on then, let’s hear it.”

Harry bit his lip. He traced a pattern in the wood grain of the tabletop, avoiding Draco’s gaze as he chose his words with care. “It was with McGonagall,” he said at last. “Their current DADA professor is moving to France this summer and they need someone to take over the position next year. She was wondering if I would be interested. And since my days on the force are numbered, now that Robards wants my head on a platter, I said yes.”

Draco pushed the pizza boxes aside so that he could reach over and take Harry’s hand in his. “That’s great news!” he said enthusiastically. “You’d be a great professor!” He paused, frowning. “But what does that have to do with me?”

“Well.” Harry interlaced their fingers, pushed their palms together, fidgety under Draco’s gaze. “I was thinking, you could never get an apprenticeship with anyone because Robards had basically blacklisted you.” That had come out during the indictment, but apparently still wasn’t enough to charge him, much to Harry’s frustration. “But what if you apprenticed at Hogwarts? Slughorn’s not teaching – ”

“Good,” Draco interrupted. “That man never liked me much. I was always jealous that you got invited to his little Slug Club and I didn’t.”

“To be fair, you didn’t miss much, it was pretty shit,” said Harry. “Anyway, they’ve had this other professor teaching Potions, an Angharad Williams? No, I haven’t heard of her either, but apparently she’s quite good. And, well, I asked if maybe you could apprentice with her, and McGonagall said she’d look into it. I should have her answer in the next couple of days.”

Draco’s jaw dropped.

“Seriously?”

Harry nodded. Draco pulled away to press both hands over his mouth. Tears sparkled in his eyes. Harry wasn’t sure if he could smile or not. Finally, Draco lowered his hands slightly.

“This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me,” he whispered, “and Pansy literally let me sleep in her bed after I got kicked out.”

Harry shrugged. “I mean, it might not work out, but it’s an option,” he said, trying to wave it off even as he blushed. But Draco suddenly got up and made his way around the kitchen table to climb into Harry’s lap. “Oh, okay, hello.”

“You,” Draco said, holding Harry’s head in his hands, “are too good to me.”

Harry bit back a grin. His hands came up to rest on Draco’s hips, and he looked up into the other man’s beaming face. “You deserve it,” he replied. “And I don’t want to push you to do anything you don’t want to do, so if – ”

“Harry, does it look like this isn’t what I want?”

“Well, no, I just – ”

“Harry.” Draco gave Harry’s head a little shake. “What are you?”

“A Harry sandwich?”

“No, you idiot. You are a good man. Thank you.”

Harry blinked in surprise. “Really?”

“Don’t make me say it again, you know how hard it is for me.”

Then Harry was pulling him in for a kiss, and Draco was tangling his fingers in Harry’s hair, their heart beats colliding against each other. Later, Harry would see Draco’s toothbrush next to his, and the next morning he would find Draco’s extensive mug collection in his cupboards, and he would know. This was the man he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. And when Draco came down, with his bedhead and pillow marks still on his cheek, Harry would smile and wrap his arms around him as Draco made his morning coffee. He never wanted to let go.


	8. Epilogue: Ten Years Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teddy visits for the summer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! The last chapter!

Draco looked up from chopping lettuce at the kitchen island as Teddy came into the kitchen. “Hello,” Draco said, turning back to his chopping. “What are you doing inside?”

Teddy shrugged and sat down at the kitchen counter. Outside, Harry supervised as their three kids flew around on child-safe brooms. The summer sun blazed through the cottage’s open windows, filling the low-ceilinged kitchen with golden light and the smell of growing things, warm earth and green leaves. Teddy was only visiting for a few weeks before returning to his grandmother’s for the last week of the summer holidays. Then, he and Harry would be going back to Hogwarts for the beginning of the school year, leaving Draco to look after the children.

They had agreed when they adopted James that Draco could operate his potions consultancy from home, so long as Harry came home on weekends during termtime. And while he missed his husband, Draco had to admit, it was better than trying to raise a family at Hogwarts. They had entertained the idea the first few years of Harry’s tenure, when Teddy was still small, Draco was finishing his apprenticeship with Professor Williams, and they were recently married – but the number of times Teddy would wander off into the castle made them realise that it was a terrible idea to bring toddlers to Hogwarts. So they found this cottage, a Grade II listed building covered in wisteria deep in the Cotswolds. Draco began to build his client base, and Harry came home as often as he could. After a couple years, they adopted James, then Albus, then Lily. But of course, Teddy would always be their first born of sorts. Teddy, who was fifteen and watching his adopted father slice up tomatoes for the salad with a worried frown on his young, acne-spotted face.

“Uncle Draco,” he asked, his voice timid as he shifted in his seat. Draco raised an eyebrow, letting him know he was listening. “How did you know you were gay?”

Draco set his knife down. He let out a sharp exhale and looked up, tapping his fingers against the countertop. “Wow, okay, wasn’t expecting that. Hm.” He considered it for a long moment, his gaze wandering to where he could see his husband’s broad shoulders through the open window. He chuckled to himself. “I think I always knew,” he said slowly. “But when I met Harry, the pieces started to come together, you know? It wasn’t until I was about thirteen that I admitted it to myself, though. It wasn’t something you advertised, where I came from, with my family being what it was.” He took a deep breath, his fingers still tapping against the wood, trying not to think about his father, who never reached out to Draco again, who had died a few years back of a heart attack. He tried not to think of his mother, alone in that empty house. “How did I know? The other boys in my dorm would talk about girls, and I would think about Harry. That’s how I knew.” He looked back at Teddy, who was hanging off his every word, and cocked his head. “Why do you ask?”

Teddy swallowed hard, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing. His hair turned bubble gum pink, even the pale downy moustache forming on his upper lip. Draco narrowed his eyes – when Teddy hit puberty, his ability to change his hair had started to be affected by his emotions, flaring into all sorts of colours just as unpredictably as his teenage moods. Draco knew what pink meant, though. Teddy was embarrassed about something.

“Teddy?” Draco asked warily. “What’s wrong?”

Teddy slid down in his chair, his wiry frame spilling down towards the floor. He seemed to have grown several inches in the past few months alone, and the poor boy still wasn’t entirely aware of his own body. “You know how I’m dating Victoire?” he said finally. Draco nodded with a frown. “Well, I’ve been realising recently that, erm, I might fancy boys as well. And I don’t know whether to tell her or not.”

Draco blinked several times. He opened his mouth, reconsidered, and closed it again. He hummed. “Right. Okay. That’s, erm. Right.” Draco bowed his head to hide the fact that his mind was starting to implode.

He was surprised, honestly, that he hadn’t seen it earlier. The boy had been curiously drawn to David Bowie at an incredibly young age, and would often blush when either Draco or Harry asked if there was anyone he fancied. They assumed it was normal teenage nerves. And when Teddy had started to date Victoire earlier that year, they thought that was the answer. But now… “I really hate to say this,” Draco said, looking up at his godson-in-law, “but you should talk to Harry. He would know more about this than me.”

“What would I know about?”

Draco and Teddy both jumped as Harry bounded into the kitchen, his hair windswept and cheeks pink from the sun. Draco could hear their kids running down the hall, especially James who seemed to be trying to convince Albus to race him on his broom to the living room. Harry heard it as well and yelled over his shoulder, “No flying in the house! I won’t hesitate to take that broom away, Jamie!” He turned back to the two of them with a shake of his head, and came up behind Draco, wrapping his arms around his husband’s waist and resting his chin on his shoulder. “So what were you talking about? What would I know?”

Draco leaned back against Harry and gestured at Teddy. “Teddy wants to talk to us about something,” he said. “Go ahead, Ted, it’s okay.”

Teddy bit his lip as he looked from one godfather to the other. Draco gave him an encouraging nod. With a long sigh, Teddy mumbled, “I think I fancy boys _and_ girls.”

Draco turned his head to watch Harry’s reaction. Harry blinked a few times, frowned, seemed to review all of his memories of Teddy in his head, and nodded to himself, his chin digging slightly into Draco’s shoulder. “Okay,” he said. “Yeah. So, what’s the problem? You know we would be fine with that, so there’s got to be something else. Am I right?”

Teddy nodded. His bubble gum pink hair turned slightly neon. “I haven’t told Victoire yet,” he said.

“Oh.” Harry straightened up. “Right then. I see. Hm. That’s a tricky one.”

“Right?” said Draco. “That’s why I said he should talk to you. I’ve never had this problem before.”

Harry rolled his eyes but nodded. “No, I get it, this is definitely something I know about. Right. Teddy, you need to tell her.”

Teddy gawked at him. He flailed his hands as he spluttered, “And say what? Hey, sweetheart, I like you and everything, but I also fancy McLaggen.”

“ _McLaggen_?! Cormac’s kid?! Come on, Teddy, you’ve got to have better taste than that!” Harry squawked. Teddy’s hair matched his crimson cheeks as he dug his phone out of his pocket. He pulled up a picture of the boy in question – after mobile phones became popular, Hogwarts had to update their anti-Muggle technology wards so that the phones could work, at least to a limited extent. Teddy shoved his phone over the island to show them. Draco and Harry leaned forward to squint at the small screen. The picture wasn’t great quality, but Draco had to admit, the younger McLaggen had inherited his father’s swagger. Harry frowned.

“Not my type, but okay,” he grumbled. He sighed and stepped away from Draco to pinch the bridge of his nose, leaning against the island beside his husband. Teddy sat back, his expression a mix of triumph at proving his point and the embarrassment of even making the point in the first place. Harry rubbed his chin. He needed a shave. “Right, well, you don’t have to tell her like that. She’s probably going to ask, but still – you like her, don’t you?”

Teddy nodded, but it was uncertain. Harry raised his eyebrows. “Son,” he said slowly, “what’s the real problem here? That you’re afraid to tell your girlfriend that you’re bisexual, or that you’re not sure if you still want to date her?”

Teddy groaned and dropped his face into his hands. There it was, then. Draco crossed his arms while Harry leaned forward on his elbows towards his godson, his green eyes knowing and sympathetic. Draco had never asked him about why Ginny had left. But seeing him now, Draco began to understand.

Teddy lowered his hands, but remained slumped in his chair, all arms and legs and too much torso. He looked more and more like Lupin every day. “I don’t want to break up over this,” he whispered. “I do like her, I just…”

“Don’t like her as much as you want to,” Harry finished for him. Teddy nodded, his hazel eyes wide. Harry gave him a sad smile. “I get it, I really do. I dated someone before Draco – ”

“A strange concept, but it’s true,” Draco interjected, his lips quirking into a teasing smile. Harry rolled his eyes.

“You were just a baby at the time, so you probably don’t remember her,” he continued. “She’s Victoire’s aunt, Ginny. I started dating her while we were still in school, but we broke up a couple years after the war ended. It was the same situation, I loved her but just not in the way she deserved. I told her that I was bisexual, she assumed that there must be someone else, then, and before I knew it, she was gone.”

Draco put his hand on Harry’s lower back, rubbing it in small circles, little apologies and ‘I love you’s in each one. Harry looked down for a moment. He took a shaking breath. When he looked back up, Teddy had sat up and reached out to take one of his godfather’s hands in his. The three of them stayed like that, their touch saying everything. Then, there was a crash, and the sound of James’s raucous laughter echoing down the hallway.

Harry straightened up, wiping at his eyes as he muttered, “God damn it, Jamie.” He cleared his throat and said to Teddy, “I’ll be right back, but just know, I love you and support you whatever you decide to do. Let me just….”

There was another crash. This time, they could hear Lilly’s shrill voice as she shrieked, “I’m telling Daddy!”, followed by Albus trying to shush her. Harry groaned and strode towards the hallway.

“Kids! If I see any of you in the air, I’m taking the brooms away until Christmas!”

Draco chuckled. He knew it was an empty threat – Harry loved teaching his kids to fly too much to take away their brooms. He went back to slicing the tomato for the salad with a shake of his head. Teddy watched him in silence, his eyes distant as he stared at a point just above Draco’s hands. Draco waited. When Teddy was ready, he would talk.

“There’s something else,” Teddy whispered. Draco looked up from adding the tomatoes to the salad, drying his hands on a kitchen towel. Teddy wrung his hands as he leaned on his elbows, worrying his lip between his teeth. “But it’s… harder to explain.”

“Okay,” said Draco softly. “Do you want to wait until Harry comes back?”

Teddy nodded. He didn’t meet Draco’s eyes. Draco pursed his lips. Then he waved his wand so that the rest of the salad ingredients could start preparing themselves – the cucumber slicing itself on the mandolin as the olive oil and balsamic vinaigrette poured themselves in equal measure into a jar – and came around to sit down next to Teddy.

“Hey,” he murmured, putting one hand on Teddy’s knee. “You know that we love you no matter what, right? You could kill someone and we would hide the body.”

Teddy let out a short laugh and bowed his head. “Yeah, yeah I know,” he said. Draco gave his godson’s knee a squeeze before pulling back, head turning towards the hall at the sound of his husband’s footsteps approaching. Harry came back into the kitchen, shaking his head.

“I swear, Jamie would give Fred and George a run for their money,” he muttered. He sat down in the chair on Teddy’s other side with an exhausted sigh. “They were trying to ‘surf’ on the brooms, so I sent them back outside, sans brooms. Hopefully they can get all their energy out before tea without breaking anything important.”

“Teddy has something else he wants to talk to us about,” Draco told him, leaning around Teddy to look meaningfully at Harry. Harry raised his eyebrows.

“Oh?” Harry put his hand on the back of Teddy’s chair. “Okay. Teddy, what’s up?”

Teddy wouldn’t look at either of them, staring instead at his clenched hands on the countertop. “It’s…complicated,” he said, his voice just barely audible.

“Sweetheart, have you met us?” Draco asked with a soft smile. “If anyone understands complicated, it’s us.”

Teddy snorted. “This is… different. This is….” He licked his bitten lip. “So, I fancy boys and girls, right?” Harry and Draco nodded. Teddy swallowed, then continued, “Well, I think it’s because, sometimes, I feel like a boy _and_ a girl.”

Draco looked up at Harry with a frown. Harry, however, seemed equally perplexed. He pushed his glasses up his crooked nose and leaned closer to Teddy. “Run that by us one more time,” he said. “What do you mean, feel like a boy and a girl?”

“I mean,” Teddy curled in on himself, wrapping his arms tight around his waist as he addressed his knees, “sometimes I feel like I’m a boy, and sometimes I feel like I’m a girl.”

Draco sat back in his chair. Harry seemed to still be processing this new information. Draco rubbed his jaw with one hand. “Okay,” he said. “That’s a new one.”

“You guys think I’m crazy, don’t you?” Teddy mumbled.

“No,” Harry said immediately. “No, absolutely not. It’s a lot to process, but we don’t think you’re crazy. Right, Draco?”

Draco nodded. “Absolutely.”

Teddy remained unconvinced, not looking up from his knees. Harry got up and pulled his godson into a hug. Teddy leaned his head against Harry’s chest, his narrow shoulders shaking as he held back his sobs. Harry raised his eyebrows at Draco as if to say, ‘get over here, you git, your godson needs you.’ Draco rolled his eyes back, letting him know, ‘I’m getting there, I’m getting there, Merlin’s balls, just give me a second,’ before getting up himself and putting his arms around both Teddy and Harry. He rested his cheek against Teddy’s trembling shoulder as he murmured, “It’s okay, we love you, it’s okay.”

“Although, if you ever want to go dress shopping,” Harry said, “I don’t know how much I can help, I’m absolutely shite at that. Hermione wanted me to help her shop for a wedding dress back in the day, and it was a complete disaster.”

Draco shrugged and squeezed them both a little tighter when Teddy let out a hiccoughing laugh. “I can help,” he said, “and by help I mean I can take you to all the nice shops. I’d have to see if Pansy’s busy, she loves shopping and she’d know where to go.”

Teddy sniffled. He looked up at Harry, his eyes red-rimmed and puffy. “You guys are really cool with this?” he asked thickly. Harry nodded as Draco murmured, “Of course.”

“We may not know exactly what you’re feeling,” Harry said, picking his words with care, “but whatever you’re feeling is valid, and we support you, no matter what.”

“Ditto,” said Draco.

Teddy gave them both a watery smile. “You guys are the best,” he mumbled. He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. Harry and Draco gave him one last squeeze before pulling away, Harry’s hand still on Teddy’s back as they sat with him. “I just don’t know what to tell Victoire. Like, I get it, it’s a lot. But I don’t want her to think that I’m breaking up with her just because of all this, you know? I do like her a lot, and I want to stay friends, but…”

“But you have to focus on yourself first,” Harry murmured. Teddy nodded. Harry rubbed his godson’s back, his hand brushing the knobs of the boy’s spine, the sharp juts of his shoulder blades.

“Have you told Andromeda?” Draco asked tentatively. Teddy shook his head with a panicked look.

“God, no,” he said. “No, I haven’t told anyone besides you two.”

“We are honoured,” Draco assured him. “And so grateful that you trust us enough to tell us.”

“Well,” Teddy said with a shaky smile, “you’re also the only queer adults I know.”

Harry chuckled and Draco grinned. “That’s fair,” Harry admitted. “But Draco’s right, you should probably tell your godmother. You don’t have to tell her right away, that’s entirely up to you. But you know that she, like us, will love and support you no matter what.”

“Should probably get through this Victoire business first, though,” Draco added, patting Teddy’s knee. “Just like repotting a Mandrake. The sooner you get it over with, the better.”

Harry frowned. “Terrible metaphor, babe.”

“You have to admit, though, it’s accurate.”

“Draco, nO.”

Teddy chuckled. “I love you,” he said. He looked at Harry then Draco with a warm smile, his hair settling into a happy copper mop. “Both of you.”

“We love you, too,” said Draco. He wrapped his arms around Teddy as he stood and kissed the top of his head. Harry smiled at them, the skin at the corner of his wrinkling adorably. The sound of their children’s laughter carried through the open window with the warm summer breeze. Harry’s magic flowed with the breeze, caressing his husband’s cheek lovingly. Draco’s heart in that moment was so full, he thought his ribs might break trying to contain it all. There, in that old cottage kitchen, their lives were complete.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this scene in my head almost from the beginning. This is the coming out that I wish I had back when I first started coming out to my parents as queer and trans, so this is very near and dear to my heart. Thank you all for the love and support you've shown my work, it means so much to me!


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